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^. 


If.  124 


ON   THE    ROCK-WALL    OF    ILLIMANI 


THE 


Bolivian  Andes 


A  RECORD  OF  CLIMBING  &  EX  FLORA  TION 

IN  THE  CORDILLERA  REAL  IN  THE 

YEARS  1S98  AND  1900 


BY 

SIR  MARTIN,  CON  WAY 


ILLUSTRATED 


LONDON   AND   NEW  YORK 

HARPER   &  BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

1901 


■^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


^^f. 


i 


,cl 


fl£N£RAL 


Copyright,  1901,  by  Harpbr  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 
May,  igor. 

truiXtiii  iH  N»ui   York,  V,  S.  A, 


TO 

Gen.  JOSlfe   MANUEL   PANDO 
PRESIDENT 

OF  THE 

REPUBLIC  OF  BOLIVIA 


1G6960 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  London  to  Colon i 

II.  The  Isthmus  of  Panama i6 

III.  A  Central  American  Revolution 24 

IV.  Panama  to  Lima 34 

V.  Lima  to  Lake  Titicaca 51 

VI.  Lake  Titicaca  to  La  Paz 63 

VII.  La  Paz 77 

VIII.  La  Paz  to  CotaSTa 89 

IX.  The  Fertile  Slopes  of  Illimani 104 

X.  Illimani  :  The  Lower  Slopes 113 

XL  Illimani  :  The  Rock-Wall 122 

XII.  Illimani:  The  Final  Climb 132 

XIII.  Return  to    La  Paz 145 

XIV.  Preparing  to  Ascend  Sorata 154 

XV.  The  Approach  to  Mount  Sorata 160 

XVI.  Obstacles  to  Ascent  of  Sorata 172 

XVII.  First  Attempt  on  Mount  Sorata 184 

XVIII.  Visit  to  Sorata  Town 192 

XIX.  The  Rubber  Industry 203 

XX.  The  Eastern  Valleys 219 

XXI.  Climbing  Ancohuma 228 

XXII.  Surveying   Under    Difficulties 240 

XXIII.  The  Gold-Mine  of  Cusanaco 257 

XXIV.  The  Yani  Mine 267 

XXV.  Ascent  of  PeRas  Hill 274 

XXVI.  Tin-Mines  of  Huaina  Potosi 291 

XXVII.  Last  Ride  Over  the  Puna .,300 

XXVIII.  La  Paz  to  Oruro 312 

XXIX.  Oruro  to  the  Pacific 324 

Appendix 343 

Bibliography 398 

Index 401 

V 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ON  THE  ROCK-WALL  OF  ILLIMANI Frontispiece. 

A  PEASANT'S  HUT,  JAMAICA 


Facing  p.     10 
ARCH  OF  TRIUMPH  AT  JACMEL 

PANAMA  CATHEDRAL ) 

c  30 

PALM  AVENUE,  PANAMA > 

LADING  CATTLE ) 

A  BALSA  LADEN  WITH  PETROLEUM ) 

ON  THE  OROYA  RAILROAD )  „  ^ 

TERRACED  HILL-SIDE f 

THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  OROYA  RAILWAY "  48 

THE  PAMPA  OF  AREQUIPA "  54 

THE  OUTSKIRTS  OF  AREQUIPA "  56 

AREQUIPA  PLAZA \  „  g 

AREQUIPA  CATHEDRAL  TOWERS ) 

A  BALSA  ON  LAKE  TITICACA "  64 

A  TILBURY "  70 

CONGRESS  BUILDING,  LA  PAZ "  78 

THE  GUIDES  LADING  A  MULE 


[ 


90 

AN  INDIAN  WEAVING 

THE  LA  PAZ  VALLEY "     92 

ROAD  UP  EARTH  PYRAMIDS  IN  THE  LA  PAZ 

VALLEY "     94 

A  DONKEY  CARAVAN  IN  THE  LA  PAZ  VALLEY 


96 

THE  LA  PAZ  VALLEY 

THE  LA  PAZ  VALLEY  ROAD ) 

>  100 

near  huaricana ) 

cotaRa "       104 

illimani  and  the  pic   de  paris  from  above 

caimbaya "       114 

the  glaciers  of  illimani "       ii6 

the  flank  of  illimani "        ii8 

vii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

INDIAN  PORTERS 

FROM  THE  TOP   OF  THE  ROCKS,   ILLIMANI  .      .  ^      Facing  p.   1 2a 


124 
126 

128 

132 


A  HEAVY  LOAD     

PREPARING  TO  CAMP  ON  ILLIMANI "  126 

ON  THE  TOP  OF  ILLIMANI 

HIGHEST  CAMP  ON  ILLIMANI 

THE  SKIRTS  OF  ILLIMANI'S   GLACIERS 

THE    CULMINATING    SNOW-FIELD    FROM    THE    PICO 

DEL  INDIO 

ILLIMANI  FROM  THE  COHONI  ROAD ) 

ILLIMANI     AND     THE     PICO     DEL     INDIO     FROM    r  "  138 

ABOVE  THE  HIGHEST  CAMP ) 

THE  DESCENT  OF   ILLIMANI "  142 

ILLIMANI  FROM  THE  COHONI  ROAD "  148 

THE  OUTSKIRTS  OF  ACHACACHE      .... 

AN  INDIAN  FUNERAL 

ACHACACHE  CHURCH  

INDIAN  CHILDREN 

MOUNT  SORATA "  174 

ROCKTOOTH  CAMP   (SECOND)  ON  MOUNT  SORATA     .  "  180 

H  AUK  AN  A  PEAK  AND  GLACIER "  184 

THE  COL  NEAR  ROCKTOOTH  CAMP  .... 

haukaNa  peak 

DRAGGING  SLEDGE  UP  MOUNT  SORATA "  18& 

HOISTING    SLEDGE    AMONG     THE     BIG     CREVASSES 

OF  MOUNT  SORATA "  190 

A  HALT  AMONG  THE  SERACS  OF  MOUNT  SORATA    .  "  192 

MOUNT     SORATA     IN     CLOUDS     FROM     NEAR     THE 

HUALLATA  PASS "  19& 

ANCOHUMA  FROM  THE  UPPER  SNOW-FIELD     ...  "  234 

CHULPA  ON  ABICHACA  HILL "  244 

EARTH    PYRAMIDS    ON     THE    WAY    TO    THE    ALTO 

DE  ANIMAS "  252 

MR.  N.  E.   BIEBER   AT    THE    TOP  OF    THE   ALTO   DE 

ANIMAS "  254 

GORGE  IN  THE  PALCA  VALLEY "  258 

MINERS'   HUTS  AT  CUSANACO "  260 

ALTO  DE   ANIMAS 

THE  PALCA  VALLEY  ROAD 

'THE  FORCE" 

THE  CUSANACO   GOLD-MINE 

viii 


166 

168 


186 


[  "  264 


274 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


RUINED  CHAPEL  ON  THE  TOP   OF  PERAS  HILL   . 

SHRINE  ON  PENAS  HILL 

HUT  NEAR  THE  TOP  OF  PEfsfAS  HILL 

THE  NEIGHBORHOOD  OF  MOUNT  CACA-ACA      .      . 

MOUNT  CACA-ACA ". 

BETWEEN  LA  PAZ  AND  ORURO 

A   BAGGAGE  WAGON      

LAVA  STREAM  ON  THE  PAMPA     .... 
VOLCANO  AND  SALT-PLAIN  NEAR   UYUNI 

BOLIVIAN  MINERALS 351,  363 

BOLIVIAN  FOSSILS 389^ 


::l 


Facing  p.    zSz 

284. 

292 
294 

314 
320 


338^ 


**     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 


CHAPTER  I 
LONDON   TO    COLON 

TO  live  im  Ganzen,  to  experience  in  full  the  charm, 
the  joy,  the  opportunity  of  life,  has  always  been 
the  aim  of  healthful  manhood;  but  thus  to  live 
is  over  and  over  again  to  find  that  ''what  was  once 
precious  is  become  indifferent/'  Each  new  experience 
is  enjoyed  at  the  expense  of  its  predecessor,  each  new 
interest  supplants  the  one  that  went  before.  The  travel- 
ler, especially  the  exploring  traveller,  is  perhaps  more 
inevitably  conscious  of  this  succession  of  interests  than 
are  men  of  any  other  category,  for  to  him  each  new 
point  of  attraction  becomes  physicalh^  visible  ahead  as 
the  old  one  fades  away  behind  or  dips  below  the  horizon. 
Each  goal  attained  becomes  a  mere  mile-stone  of  the 
way.  Also,  when  a  journey  is  ended,  and  memory 
takes  the  place  of  sight,  the  mind  no  longer  trudges 
on  from  successive  scene  to  scene,  but,  isolating  this 
or  that  vision  of  paramount  beauty  or  interest,  dwells 
upon  it,  or  leaps  with  light  speed  from  one  to  another, 
A  I 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

never  laboriously  retreading  the  footsteps  of  connecting 
stages. 

Authors  of  books  of  travel  are  thus  all  alike  faced 
by  one  initial  problem :  Shall  the  writer  take  the  reader 
with  him  along  the  road,  or,  like  a  lantern  showman, 
shall  he  display  only  the  choice  moments  and  striking 
scenery  of  the  journey?  The  latter  alternative  is  the 
more  attractive,  but  there  is  an  insuperable  objection 
to  it :  it  takes  no  account  of  the  fact  that  scenery — that 
is  to  say,  the  impression  produced  on  the  observer's 
mind  by  a  scene  or  an  event — depends  not  merely  upon 
the  thing  beheld,  but  upon  the  nature  of  the  beholder 
too,  the  mood  in  which  he  looks,  the  experiences  through 
which  he  has  passed,  the  preparation  through  which  he 
has  gone.  If  the  Jungfrau  Railway  is  ever  finished, 
the  view  from  the  summit  will  produce  upon  travellers 
who  mount  by  its  long  tunnel  a  very  different  impres- 
sion from  that  received  by  a  climber  who  laboriously 
fights  his  way  to  the  top  over  long  glaciers  and  snow- 
fields  and  up  steepening  ice-slopes  and  the  final  ridge. 
A  prize  seized  and  possessed  as  the  outcome  of  long 
and  well-spent  energy  will  be  to  its  owner  a  much  more 
delightful  thing  than  a  prize  won  in  a  raffle.  It  is  the 
difference  between  a  war  medal  and  a  five-shilling  piece. 
If  my  readers  care  to  feel  even  a  semblance  of  what  I 
have  felt,  they  must,  in  some  degree  at  least,  travel  the 
road  with  me.  I  cannot  even  leap  with  them  from 
London  to  Bolivia,  for  the  eyes  that  I  opened  on  Bolivia's 
lofty  plateau  had  traversed  its  far  and  near  environ- 
ment, and  were  equipped  for  interpreting  the  scene  with 
something  acquired  on  the  way  in  the  long  days  of  land 
and  sea  travel  thither. 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

It  was  on  the  13th  of  July,  1898,  that  I  sailed  from 
Southampton  by  the  Royal  Mail  Company's  steamship 
Don,  the  same  boat  that  nineteen  years  before  carried 
Mr.  Whymper  to  his  famous  journey  of  exploration  in 
the  Great  Andes  of  Ecuador.  Like  him,  I  was  accom- 
panied by  two  Alpine  guides  from  the  village  of  Val 
Tournanche,  Antoine  Maquignaz  and  Louis  Pellissier 
by  name.  Pellissier  had  never  been  from  home  before, 
but  Maquignaz,  in  1897,  was  H.R.H.  the  Duke  of  the 
Abruzzi's  leading  guide  in  the  journey  which  resulted 
in  the  first  ascent  of  Mount  St.  Elias  in  Alaska.  I 
took  him  on  the  recommendation  of  his  uncle,  J.  B. 
Aymonod,  one  of  the  most  charming  as  well  as  one  of 
the  "best  mountain-guides,  who  accompanied  Mr.  E.  A. 
Fitzgerald  and  me  on  our  Alps  from  End  to  End  journey 
in  1894.  How  Pellissier  was  enlisted  I  forget,  or  I 
would  here  record  my  thankfulness  to  the  power  that 
gave  me  so  admirable  a  companion.  Maquignaz  is 
the  son  of  Jean  Pierre  and  nephew  of  Jean  Joseph 
Maquignaz,  two  very  famous  guides,  both  members 
of  the  first  party  that  ever  climbed  the  Matter- 
horn  from  the  Italian  side,  as  readers  of  Whymper's 
Scrambles  may  remember.  Jean  Joseph,  with  Dan- 
iel, brother  of  Antoine  Maquignaz,  also  made  the 
historic  first  ascent  of  the  Aiguille  du  Geant.  My 
leading  guide  was  thus  a  representative  of  one  of 
the  most  famous  guide  families  of  the  Alps. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  a  lovely  day  our  ves- 
sel cast  off  her  moorings  and  steamed  away  down 
Southampton  Water;  the  sun  shone  on  white-sailed 
yachts  racing  before  a  merry  breeze.  A  big  North 
German  Lloyd  liner  turned  round  beside  us,  picked 

3 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

up  passengers  and  mails  from  a  tender,  and  was  off 
again,  westward  ho!  Two  hours  later  she  was  out  of 
sight  ahead.  Of  all  the  chief  ocean  entries  to  England 
this  by  the  Needles  is  incomparably  the  finest,  the 
most  beautiful,  the  great  historic  approach;  what 
greetings  and  farewells  have  saluted  those  white 
blades  thrust  upward  from  the  blue  sea! 

Four  days  of  pleasant  monotony  followed,  each  a 
little  warmer  than  the  one  before.  Such  wind  as 
blew  followed  in  our  wake  and  scarcely  rocked  the 
ship.  All  this  time  we  were  in  the  West  Indies;  for 
it  is  one  of  the  charms  of  ocean  travel  in  a  big  liner 
that  the  moment  you  have  sailed  you  are  in  the  coun- 
try towards  which  you  are  sailing.  In  a  yacht,  wher- 
ever you  go,  you  remain  at  home,  for  the  home  party 
surrounds  you ;  but  in  a  public  liner  you  at  once  form 
part  of  a  company  most  of  whom  belong  to  the  place 
of  destination.  An  outward-bound  P.  &  0.  is  a  piece 
of  India;  an  outward-bound  Cunarder  is  the  United 
States  in  miniature.  Our  Royal  Mail  boat  was  an 
epitome  of  the  West  Indies.  The  moment  we  sailed 
England  became  a  memory  to  all;  their  holiday  was 
ended,  they  were  returning  to  their  respective  homes. 
At  Barbados,  the  great  West  Indian  junction,  they 
would  scatter  to  all  their  islands,  from  St.  Kitts  to 
Trinidad  and  south  to  Demerara.  A  few  would  come 
on  to  Jamaica,  and  very  few  to  Colon  for  Central  Amer- 
ica; only  three  or  four  were  bound  with  me  for  Peru. 
No  sooner,  then,  was  our  English  coast  lost  in  the 
summer  haze  than  their  talk  was  of  the  West  Indies, 
of  the  sugar  industry  especially,  and  of  "bounties'"; 
of  fruit-growing,  and  the  need  of  swift  steamers  to 

4 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

pour  the  oranges  and  bananas  and  mangoes  of  Ja- 
maica into  the  London  markets;  of  local  politics  and 
problems,  the  need  for  retrenchment  in  public  ex- 
penditures; of  the  negro  and  labor  questions  in  some 
of  their  infinite  forms;  of  land  questions,  of  possible 
new  industries,  and  what  not. 

Such  talk  with  a  number  of  men,  each  of  whom 
knows  by  experience  the  difficulties  of  his  own  prob- 
lem, is  the  best  preparation  for  viewing  their  country, 
which  swiftly  gains  actuality  and  ceases  to  be  a  mere 
figure  on  a  map.  Charts  are  produced,  descriptions 
given,  plans  for  the  employment  of  one's  time  suggest- 
ed, invitations  hospitably  tendered.  Thus  what  a  few 
days  before  was  but  a  name  takes  form  in  one's  mind 
as  solid  ground.  The  various  islands  begin  to  have 
each  an  individuality  of  its  own.  As  one  walks  the 
deck  with  a  fellow-passenger  after  the  morning  bath, 
or  in  the  intervals  of  squash  cricket  or  some  other 
game,  the  stone  walls  of  reserve  fall  down;  the  man 
tells  his  tale  to  a  sympathetic  companion — you  hear 
of  his  home,  in  Scotland,  it  may  be,  of  his  store  in 
Trinidad,  or  his  plantation  in  Jamaica,  of  his  difficul- 
ties, his  successes,  and  his  hopes.  A  week  or  two 
so  spent  expands  life.  The  young  men  and  maidens 
on  board  danced  and  sang  every  evening,  and  played 
games  vigorously  all  day  long,  whatever  the  heat; 
cricket  every  afternoon,  and  shovel-board  at  intervals, 
the  ancient  "slide-thrift,  otherwise  called  shove- 
grouf  one  of  the  ''crafty  games''  rendered  illegal 
by  an  act  of  Henry  VIIL  ''for  the  maintaining  ar- 
tillery." 

On  the  morning  of  our  fourth  day  of  warming  air 

5 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

and  pleasant  breezes  I  came  on  deck  to  find  the  cliffs 
of  San  Miguel,  the  largest  of  the  Azores,  close  at  hand. 
The  island  front  was  swimming  in  moisture-laden, 
sunny  air,  and  girt  by  the  white-maned  horses  of  a 
turquoise  sea.  Boldly  profiled  cliffs  of  scarred  red 
rock  or  steep  tree-dotted  slopes  support  the  cultivated 
land — an  undulating  area  of  green  and  golden  squares, 
vineyards,  and  cornfields.  Deep  wooded  chines  are  cut 
into  the  swelling  mass.  Higher  aloft  ridges  fringed 
with  trees  ran  together  into  graceful  peaks,  or  lost  them- 
selves in  a  soft  roof  of  cloud  which  floated  over  the 
island.  Down  by  the  shore  glittered  white-walled  cot- 
tages or  farms.  A  larger  splash  of  brightness  away 
to  the  westward  revealed  the  town  and  church  of  Villa 
Franca.  An  hour  or  two  later  this  land  of  beauty  and 
romance  had  melted  away  into  light,  through  stages 
of  increasing  transparency,  and  so  disappeared,  long 
before  dipping  behind  the  horizon  bounds. 

Beyond  the  Azores  came  weather  quite  reason- 
ably warmed  through,  a  delight  to  experience  after 
a  background  of  cold  English  spring;  yet,  thank 
Heaven!  our  race  was  nurtured  in  east  winds  and 
gray  skies,  which  drive  men  to  keep  moving,  and  make 
work  essential  to  happiness.  In  the  tropics  work  is 
a  curse;  in  England  and  the  other  arctic  regions  it 
is  a  joy.  On  the  eleventh  day  out  (noon,  lat.  14°  45'  N., 
long.  57°  11'  E.)  we  came  into  a  dirty  green  sea,  colored, 
I  w^as  told,  by  the  mud  of  South  American  rivers;  we 
also  entered  an  area  of  splendid  torrential  showers, 
good  to  watch  as  they  swept  over  the  ocean.  Next 
morning  our  anchor  was  punctually  dropped  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  harbor  of  Barbados,  an  island  about  as 

6 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

large  as  the  Isle  of  AVight.  The  omnibus  steamers 
that  come  from  different  directions  to  meet  the  mail 
were  anchored  around,  boats  and  launches  were  flying 
to  and  fro,  while  shrieking  negro  boys  in  their  tiny 
home-made  craft  congregated  about  our  ship  to  dive 
for  coins.  I  made  haste  to  land,  in  company  with 
Mr.  F.  Cundall,  the  capable  Director  of  the  Jamaica 
Institute — a  kind  of  offshoot  of  the  English  Science 
and  Art  Department.  We  jumped  into  a  buggy  with- 
out delay  and  drove  out  into  the  country. 

I  make  no  attempt  to  catalogue  what  we  saw.  The 
impression  made  upon  me  was  overpowering  and  will 
last.  The  town  was  well  enough,  and  its  historical 
reminiscences  would  have  sufficed  to  fill  many  days 
with  interest,  but  these  were  insignificant  behind  the 
immediate  sense  of  exuberant  life,  animal  and  vege- 
table. The  ways  simply  abounded  in  niggers;  their 
bits  of  cottages  were  everywhere ;  their  babies  swarmed 
like  flies  in  Egypt.  Nature  provides  a  perfect  setting 
for  these  white-robed  throngs  on  the  white  roads  flood- 
ed with  sunshine.  It  was  the  flamboyant  trees  that 
completed  my  wonder,  trees  like  acacias,  but  with 
scarlet  flowers  instead  of  green  leaves.  I  suppose 
they  have  leaves,  but  it  is  the  flowers  that  you  see, 
a  flush  of  glory  overarching  the  roads  and  contrasting 
with  the  blue  sky  and  piled-up  towers  of  white  cloud. 
There  were  palms  waving  beside  them,  and  the  white 
walls  of  houses  and  gardens  flooded  with  Bougain- 
villeas  in  full  bloom;  and  there  were  hibiscus,  and  I 
know  not  what  more,  all  bursting  with  life  and  tri- 
umphing in  gay  efflorescence.  There  were  orchards 
and  gardens  and  sugar  plantations  covering  every 

7 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

yard  of  cultivable  land,  for  the  population  is  too  great 
for  the  land,  so  that  not  an  inch  can  be  left  untilled. 
The  pressure  of  population  in  Barbados,  like  the  cli- 
mate in  Europe,  forces  men  to  labor. 

As  we  drove  inland  we  rose  above  the  sea-level 
and  obtained  wider  views.  A  beautiful  garden  ai> 
peared  in  a  fine  position.  The  house  was  embow- 
ered in  the  flamboyant  trees.  I  made  bold  to  drive 
up  to  it;  it  proved  to  be  the  residence  of  the  Colo- 
nial Secretary,  and  the  master  gave  us  hospitable 
entertainment.  I  tried  to  take  a  photograph  in  natural 
colors*  of  the  gorgeous  vegetation,  but  the  breeze 
would  not  permit  a  sufficiently  long  exposure.  We 
drank  our  morning  coffee  on  the  terrace  under  the 
shadow  of  flowers,  with  a  landscape  of  sugar-fields 
stretching  away  to  the  beautiful  sea.  The  drive 
was  continued  through  intricate  lanes,  abounding 
in  niggers,  and  past  barracks  and  drill-grounds  down 
to  the  hotel  at  Hastings-by-the-Sea,  where  we  lunched 
on  flying-fish  and  mangoes,  and  rejoiced  to  be  alive. 
A  couple  of  months  later  came  a  great  hurricane  that 
blew  flat  all  the  trees  and  ravaged  the  gardens  that 
were  now  looking  so  fair;  but  the  same  nature  that 
destroyed  will  raise  again,  and  ten  years  hence  the  de- 
struction of  yesterday  will  be  unperceived. 

The  last  hours  of  our  stay  in  Barbados  were  spent 
in  the  club,  among  a  group  of  captains  and  ship- 
ping agents,  the  local  personification  of  that  old  and 
most  respectable  company,  the  Royal  Mail,  which 
seems  to  hold  the  West  Indies  in  the  hollow  of  its  hand. 

*  Ives's  process.  The  apparatus,  which  is  not  expensive,  can  be 
bought  in  London  from  the  Photochromoscope  Syndicate. 

8 


LONDON   TO    COLON 

The  talk  was  of  harbor-masterships  vacant,  and  who 
would  get  them;  of  the  prospects  of  one  man  and  the 
misfortunes  of  another;  of  how  Jones  was  getting  fat 
and  Brown  was  drinking  too  much;  of  the  parson's 
wife,  who  makes  the  best  guava  jelly  in  the  world; 
and  of  a  certain  dozen  bottles  of  Barbados  rum  lying 
hidden  somewhere,  that  surpassed  all  other  spirits 
ever  distilled  since  the  foundation  of  the  earth.  At 
last  the  company  broke  up  and  went  aboard  the  various 
steamers  already  weighing  their  anchors.  An  hour 
later,  when  the  sun  was  setting  beneath  a  towering 
purple  cloud  with  a  great  gold  wing,  three  spots  of 
smoke  on  the  horizon  showed  where  the  scattering 
ships  were  gone. 

From  Barbados  to  Jacmel,  in  Hayti,  is  a  run  of  815 
miles.  At  an  early  hour  one  morning  we  entered 
the  beautiful  bay,  and  the  cutter  was  launched  to 
land  the  mails.  As  an  exceptional  privilege,  and 
after  undertaking  to  be  responsible'  for  our  own  safety, 
Cundall  and  I  were  allowed  to  land.  Few  travellers 
in  recent  years  have  landed  at  Jacmel.  The  "Black 
Republic,''  whose  birth  was  watched  with  an  ill- 
founded  enthusiasm,  and  whose  history  is  a  tale  of 
steady  decadence,  cannot  even  keep  order  in  the  foul 
streets  of  one  of  its  chief  ports.  Seen  from  the  ship, 
Jacmel  looks  lovely,  a  specimen  of  tropical  village  of 
picturesque  huts  among  graceful  palms,  surrounded 
by  hills  whose  densely  wooded  covering  has  the  velvety 
texture,  even  when  beheld  from  a  great  distance,  that 
differentiates  tropical  from  temperate  forests.  I  sup- 
pose there  exists  in  the  whole  round  world  no  island 
more  blessed  with  natural  beauty  than  Hayti.     Its 

9 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

bays,  its  beautiful  hills  rising  to  12,000  feet,  its  in- 
comparably fertile  soil,  its  wealth  of  water,  should 
combine  to  make  it  the  very  garden  of  the  earth;  but 
it  is  a  garden  inhabited  by  a  people  sinking  back  into 
savagery  and  for  whom  there  will  be  no  salvation  till 
the  white  man  has  shouldered  them  again  as  part 
of  his  burden.  The  day  that  the  United  States,  having 
brought  order  and  prosperity  to  Cuba  and  Porto  Rico, 
adds  Hayti  and  Santo  Domingo  to  its  growing  empire, 
will  be  the  most  fortunate  that  has  ever  dawned  on 
those  unhappy  regions  since  Columbus  discovered  the 
island  of  Hispaniola. 

Rowing  ashore,  we  landed  at  a  half-ruined  jetty, 
near  which  rose  an  ugly  arch  of  triumph  made  of 
planks  in  honor  of  the  recent  visit  of  President  Heu- 
reaux  of  Santo  Domingo  (since  murdered).  It  may 
have  cost  $50  to  build.  I  am  told  that  it  figured  in 
the  republic's  accounts  for  some  $30,000.  Near  the 
landing-place  was  the  town  pump,  only  a  foot  or  two 
away  from  a  stinking  sewer.  There  was  also  a  broken 
electric  light  on  a  post.  Beyond  a  paved  street,  rather 
rougher  than  an  average  moraine,  were  some  crazy 
public  buildings,  made  of  planks  nailed  to  a  frame, 
and  roofed  with  corrugated  iron;  many  of  the  planks 
were  loose  and  most  were  rotten.  The  filth  of  the 
streets  was  indescribable;  the  few  people  about  were 
as  degraded  and  dirty  as  any  I  ever  saw.  They  looked 
upon  us  with  e3^es  of  malignant  suspicion.  The 
houses  matched  the  people.  There  was  no  proper  road 
leading  inland,  but  only  a  wandering  track,  which 
amply  suffices  for  all  the  trade  that  comes  to  this  port. 
If  there  were  any  energy  or  uprightness  in  people  or 

10 


A    PEASANT  S    HUT,   JAMAICA 


ARCH   OF   TRIUMPH   AT  JACMEL 


V^  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


OF 

CAL'FOJ 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

government,  Jacmel  ought  to  be  a  thriving  emporium 
of  trade.  But  it  is  as  good  as  dead.  The  degradation 
of  the  people  is  lower  than  in  the  days  of  slavery.* 

The  sight  of  Jacmel  is  one  of  the  most  horrible  I 
ever  beheld.  If  civilization's  day  is  ever  done,  and 
mankind  begins  to  rot  away,  it  will  die  out  like  this. 
Whoever  has  seen  Jacmel  will  be  cured  for  life  of  the 
belief  that  self-government  is  any  panacea  for  human 
ills.  Under  self-government  Hayti  has  sunk  from  a 
thriving  community  to  a  foul  blot  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  However  well  self-government  may  suit  some 
few  white  races,  it  is  poison  to  blacks,  and  the  man 
who  takes  it  away  from  them  will  be  their  greatest 
benefactor.  Under  no  system  of  slavery  and  despotism 
could  the  individual's  state  be  more  miserable  than 
it  is  in  Jacmel  to-day.  With  joy  we  found  ourselves 
again  on  board  ship,  which  all  day  long  sailed  by 
the  south  coast  of  the  island — an  array  of  beautiful 
hills,  fair  valleys,  and  pleasant,  undulating  lowlands. 

Next  morning  (July  29th)  we  came  early  in  sight 
of  Jamaica,  and  watched  the  Blue  Mountains,  dyed 
purple  and  gold  in  the  glory  of  sunrise.  While  round- 
ing Port  Royal  and  entering  the  fair  bay  of  King- 
ston, we  talked  of  Rodney  and  Nelson.  Cundall,  with 
his  wealth  of  local  knowledge,  peopled  the  scene  for 

*  "In  Haiti,"  says  Henrj^  Sandham  in  Harper's  Magazine 
(August,  1899),  "  if  you  see  a  bridge,  go  round  it ;  whenever  you  see 
a  sidewalk,  take  the  road.  ...  I  wish  it  were  possible  even  to  refer 
to  all  the  evidence  of  the  high  state  of  civilization  of  this  island  only 
one  hundred  years  ago  that  we  passed  in  our  climb  up  that  mountain ; 
aqueducts,  bridges,  houses,  gateways,  etc.,  to  say  nothing  of  sections 
of  broad,  well-paved  highways,  that  must  have  been  marvels — all 
destroyed  when  Haiti  became  a  republic." 

II 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

me  with  heroes  of  the  past.  Under  his  hospitable 
wing  I  spent  the  next  two  days  in  uninterrupted  en- 
joyment. Between  Kingston  and  Jacmel  no  more 
emphatic  contrast  can  be  conceived.  Nature  is  the 
same  in  both ;  the  difference  is  in  man.  The  Jamaica 
negro  is  the  best  negro  in  the  New  World;  such,  at 
any  rate,  is  the  officially  recorded  experience  of  the 
contractors  for  the  Panama  Canal.*  Though  not 
an  agreeable  person,  by  all  accounts,  the  Jamaica 
negro  is  a  fairly  good  workman,  and  has  other  merits. 
I  suppose  that,  like  other  negroes,  he  is  a  problem; 
but  this  book  is  no  place  for  problems,  nor  was  I  travel- 
ling in  the  part  of  special  Providence.  Jamaica  to 
me  was  a  picture,  a  scene  of  abounding  beauty  and 
exuberant  vegetable  wealth.  From  Barbados  to  Pana- 
ma the  luxuriance  of  vegetation  continually  increased, 
and  it  was  this  preparation  of  the  eye  that  made  the 
Peruvian  desert  so  appalling  a  contrast.  For  this 
reason  only  do  I  here  briefly  refer  to  a  country  that  has 

*  "  Dans  ces  colonies  (les  Antilles  anglaises)  la  liberation  du  n^gre 
ne  lui  a  pas  fait  oublier  sa  place  naturelle,  et  s'il  avait  eu  quelque 
tendance  k  en  perdre  le  souvenir,  ses  maitres  de  la  veille,  ses  superieurs 
d'aujourd'hui,  auraient  su  le  lui  rappeler.  La  race  s'est  conservee 
intelligente  et  forte,  et,  en  quelques  annees,  de  ces  cultivateurs  de  cafe 
on  {i.  e.,  the  canal  engineers)  a  pu  faire  des  mecaniciens  et  des  chauf- 
feurs capables  de  conduire  des  locomotives ;  on  a  fait  me  me  des  ter- 
rassiers  chargeants  aux  grands  wagons,  ce  qui  represente  un  effort 
de  travail  considerable  dans  ces  pays  chauds.  En  resume,  cette 
categorie  d'ouvriers  a  donne  des  satisfactions  relatives ;  en  tout  cas, 
c'est  la  categorie  certainement  la  plus  elevee  de  travailleurs  qui  soit 
venue  s' employer  au  Canal.  .  .  .  Les  ouvriers  blancs,  seuls,  ap- 
portent,  dans  ce  qu'ils  font,  la  conscience  du  devoir  a  accomplir  et  la 
vanite  de  Touvrage  bien  presente.  Le  negre,  avec  son  laisser-aller  et 
son  sentiment  de  maraudeur,  n'est  pas  capable  de  cette  notion." — 
P.  BunaU-VARILLA,  Panama.     Paris,  1892,  8vo,  pp.  60,  61. 

12 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

been  completely  described  by  generations  of  visitors 
and  inhabitants. 

My  whole  time  was  spent  on  the  plain  and  slopes 
between  Kingston  and  the  Blue  Mountains,  in  weather 
that  was  fine,  though  punctuated  with  thunder-storms. 
We  saw  the  hills  from  the  plain,  as  a  purple  wall  piled 
high  with  white  domes  of  cloud,  a  background  to  royal 
palms  of  Cuba  and  flamboyant  trees ;  we  looked  down 
from  the  hills  upon  the  plain,  girt  and  framed  by  them, 
spreading  away  green  and  rich  to  the  glittering  sea. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  view  of  the  hills  from  the  Hope 
Botanical  Gardens — a  foreground  of  fair  lawns  and 
chosen  trees,  where  the  orchid-house  is  a  palm  avenue, 
and  where  ferns  grow  with  superb  luxuriance.  Nor 
shall  I  ever  forget  the  panorama  of  the  plain  from 
the  old  barracks,  now  Reformatory,  of  Stony  Hill, 
the  crest  of  the  road  crossing  the  island  from  south 
to  north;  nor  the  gorgeous  storm  that  stalked  across 
it,  coming  down  in  great  majesty  from  the  mountains 
and  vanishing  over  the  sea.  If  I  had  a  week  in  Ja- 
maica again  I  would  devote  much  of  it  to  the  various 
botanical  gardens,  where  man  asks  questions  and 
Nature  makes  reply.  There  are  experimental  stations 
in  the  hills  and  in  the  plains,  large  cinchona  and 
orange  plantations  on  suitable  lands,  grounds  de- 
voted to  experiments  with  sugar,  pineapples,  and 
fruits  of  all  sorts.  It  is  impossible  to  overestimate 
the  value  of  this  work  to  the  island.  If  sugar  fails  it, 
there  is  hardly  a  limit  to  its  possible  fruit  production ; 
but  the  native  fruits  are  not  good  enough  for  export. 
Oranges,  mangoes,  pineapples  need  cultivation  and 
improvement,  and  the  way  of  doing  this  is  shown  for 

13 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  people  at  trifling  cost,  under  the  control  of  able 
men  of  science.  Such  did  not  appear  to  be  the  opinion 
of  the  elected  members  of  the  legislature,  whose  de- 
bate on  the  estimates  for  these  very  gardens  I  had 
the  opportunity  of  attending.  They  were  for  closing 
as  many  of  them  as  possible.  They  proposed  to 
abandon  to  destruction  a  plantation  of  100,000  young 
orange-trees.  ''What's  the  use  of  trying  to  improve 
our  oranges?''  they  said.  ''They  are  the  best  in  the 
world  as  they  are,  growing  silvestre,  sown  by  the 
birds.  It  is  all  waste  of  energy.  Look  at  your  cin- 
chona plantation — what  that  cost.  Let  us  close  them 
all  and  save  money." 

A  little  of  this  kind  of  debate  was  enough.  Cun- 
dall  whisked  me  off  to  see  his  museum,  where  is  a 
library  of  books  and  prints  dealing  with  Jamaica, 
laboriously  brought  together  by  him  out  of  the  second- 
hand booksellers'  catalogues  of  the  world.  A  glimpse 
into  the  natural  -  history  museum,  with  its  beautiful 
preparations  of  marine  organisms  and  its  remarkable 
collection  of  local  cretaceous  fossils,  was  all  that  I  was 
allowed;  then  off  to  Gordontown  in  the  hills,  by  way 
of  the  Hope  Botanical  Gardens  and  a  fine  road  zig- 
zagging up  a  deep  valley  densely  wooded  with  blos- 
soming trees  and  creepers,  and  flowers  below — a  perfect 
bewilderment  of  beauty,  all  reeking  wet  after  one  of 
the  frequent  downpours  proper  to  this  time  of  year. 
One  could  almost  see  things  growing  in  the  dampness. 
We  drove  back  to  Cundall's  house,  with  a  flaming 
gold  sunset  above  the  dark  plain;  and,  after  a  dinner 
of  novel  foods  and  fruits,  spent  a  long,  delightful 
evening  under  the  stars,  with  music  of  the  trees  and 

14 


LONDON    TO    COLON 

the  gentle,  perfume-laden  breeze.  The  last  thing  I 
remember  in  Jamaica  was  breakfast  in  the  beautiful 
garden  of  an  old  Cambridge  contemporary,  beneath  a 
gorgeous  flamboyant  tree  with  a  royal  palm  above  it 
and  the  Blue  Mountains  behind.  The  cool  morning 
air  was  perfectly  still ;  the  low  sun  drew  long  shadows 
across  the  dew-spangled  grass ;  humming-birds  seemed 
to  hang  over  the  bushes  like  live  flowers.  In  the  midst 
of  this  paradise  my  friend  talked  of  his  longing  for 
gray,  damp,  populous  old  home. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ISTHMUS   OF  PANAMA 

A  LL  too  soon  for  me  we  were  aboard  and  away, 
L\  sailing  no  longer  westward,  with  the  swell  be- 
hind, but  south,  for  two  nights  and  a  day  of 
solid  discomfort — typical  weather  for  the  Caribbean 
Sea.  The  almost  empty  ship  was  rolled  about  by 
the  agitated  waters.  Deluges  of  rain  fell,  winds 
blew,  and  thunder  crashed.  The  air  was  as  heavy 
with  moisture  as  it  could  be  soaked.  All  on  board 
were  limp  and  many  were  sea-sick.  Thus  when 
we  anchored  off  Colon,  least  attractive  of  ports,  it 
seemed  quite  a  haven  of  rest,  though  when  the  time 
came  for  shifting  my  baggage  from  boat  to  train  it 
proved  to  be  the  very  reverse.  In  no  hurry  to  land, 
I  sat  for  an  hour  or  two  with  the  ship's  officers,  to 
whose  kindness  I  am  much  indebted,  and  talked 
with  the  many  Colonians  who  came  aboard  on  ap- 
parent business  of  one  kind  and  another,  but  really 
to  ask  for  ice.  In  the  Republic  of  Colombia  ice  is  a 
government  monopoly.  The  supply  for  the  Isthmus 
is  made  at  Panama,  and  just  now — horror  of  horrors ! — 
the  ice-machine  had  broken  down ;  so  the  entire  popula- 
tion, from  highest  to  lowest,  had  to  drink  their  cock- 
tails tepid  during  three  whole  weeks!  Revolutions 
have  arisen  from  lesser  misfortunes 

i6 


THE    ISTHMUS    OF    PANAMA 

The  site  of  Colon  is  by  nature  a  rank  tropical  swamp, 
ft  has  been  partly  reclaimed  by  the  railway  and  canal 
companies.  Most  of  it,  however,  is  not  reclaimed  at 
all,  and  there  the  houses  are  built,  like  prehistoric 
lake-dwellings,  on  piles  sunk  into  the  black  swamp, 
into  which  also  the  black,  whity-brown,  or  yellow  in- 
habitants cast  the  refuse  of  their  filthy  lives,  so  that 
the  accumulation  swimming  or  stranded  below  the 
houses  is  as  vile  and  putrid  as  anything  to  be  found 
in  the  worst  back-eddy  of  a  European  sewer.  ''  Colon 
unhealthy!''  said  a  man  to  me,  with  modest  depreca- 
tion. "  Colon  unhealthy !  Do  you  think  people  could 
live  like  this  if  the  place  were  not  naturally  one 
of  the  healthiest  in  the  world?  Now  Panama  and 
Guayaquil,  if  you  like,  .  .  /'  It  was  always  that 
way;  no  one  would  ever  acknowledge  his  town  to  be 
unhealthy.  "  Yellow  -  fever !  WeVe  not  had  yellow- 
fever  here  for  twenty  years,  but  at  Cartagena  the 
workmen  are  dying  like  flies."  I  dare  say  at  Carta- 
gena they  would  have  reported  an  epidemic  at  Co- 
lon. 

An  embanked  promenade,  with  an  avenue  of  cocoa- 
palms  leading  to  De  Lesseps'  abandoned  house,  and 
a  statue  of  Columbus  protecting  (good  heavens!)  an 
emblematical  figure  of  America  —  these  are  all  the 
sights  of  Colon.  When  I  had  seen  them  I  returned 
to  the  ship,  where  my  doings  had  been  reported.  ''  If 
that  man  goes  on  walking  about  in  the  sun,  hell  be 
down  with  yellow-fever  by  evening,''  said  some  one 
of  me ;  but  it  was  no  use  foreboding ;  I  was  here  to  see 
things  and  intended  to  see  them.  After  a  frightful 
struggle  my  goods  were  all  booked  at  the  station  and 
B  17 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

we  were  ready  to  start  upon  the  most  expensive  journey 
for  its  length  in  the  world,  not  even  excepting  the 
Mendoza  Railway.  From  Colon  to  Panama  the  dis- 
tance is  about  forty-five  miles.  The  fare  for  myself, 
the  two  guides,  and  the  baggage  was  over  £io.  At 
last  the  train  started  and  we  soon  came  upon  the  wreck 
of  the  savings  of  the  good  people  of  France.  It  was  a 
pitiful  sight.  There  were  rows  of  dredges  in  the 
water,  and  fields  of  abandoned  machinery  on  shore, 
much  of  it  never  even  put  together,  more  put  together 
but  never  used,  boilers,  piles  of  rails  and  tram-lines, 
innumerable  trucks  with  their  wood-work  rotted  away, 
sheds  full  of  engines,  the  whole  invaded  by  tropical 
growth  and  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  rank  swamp 
through  which  the  railroad  runs.  Presently  come  drier 
patches  where  bananas  grow,  and  palms  matted  with 
creepers.  It  was  a  disappointment  to  find  all  this 
soaking  greenery  hardly  enlivened  by  a  single  blos- 
som. By  degrees  the  land  became  more  solid  and  a 
hard  mound  or  two  emerged  from  the  pools  of  lazily 
flowing  waters  that  still  predominated.  The  whole 
region  had  an  abandoned  aspect.  It  seemed  as  though 
vegetation  overpowered  animal  life.  Birds  were  few. 
Yet  there  must  have  been  something  to  shoot,  or  the 
gun-carrying  nigger  I  saw  waiting  about,  up  to  his 
waist  in  water,  would  hardly  have  looked  so  cheerful. 
Imagination  pictured  the  place  full  of  things  creep- 
ing and  gliding.  Damp,  tropical  regions  always  pro- 
duce on  me  the  impression  that  whoever  made  them 
made  them  to  be  the  home  of  vegetation,  and  that  man 
is  out  of  place  in  them.  The  conditions  are  hostile 
to  his  habitation.     He  may  come  and  look,  but  if  he 

i8 


THE    ISTHMUS   OF   PANAMA 

stays  his  active  energies  are  sapped  and  he  tends  to 
vegetate  himself. 

Where  the  ground  began  to  rise  definitely  we  came 
to  the  station  and  village  of  Gatun  on  the  famous  (or 
infamous)  Chagres  River.  The  village  consisted  of 
a  corrugated  iron  church  and  rows  of  plank  huts 
with  iron  roofs,  all  evidently  made  to  a  set  of  patterns 
and  imported  from  France — so  many  houses  of  one 
type,  so  many  of  another.  It  was  all  prettily  enough 
projected,  but  multitudes  of  difficulties  arose  that  were 
unforeseen  in  the  hurry  of  reckless  enthusiasm. 

''The  fundamental  error  made  by  De  Lesseps  and 
his  associates/'  writes  Colonel  William  Ludlow,*  'Vas 
in  basing  the  Panama  plans  and  estimates  upon  the 
most  favorable  results  obtained  in  the  Suez  construc- 
tions, without  making  adequate  or  any  allowance  for 
the  radically  different  conditions.  Suez  was  merely 
one  hundred  miles  of  level  digging  through  sand,  in 
a  region  where  the  rainfall  is  but  an  inch  or  two  in 
the  year,  the  climate  comparatively  cool  and  health- 
ful, a  large  supply  of  native  labor,  and  the  mechanical 
resources  of  Europe  at  no  great  distance;  but,  not- 
withstanding these  advantages,  the  work,  planned  on 
an  estimate  of  $40,000,000,  cost  $110,000,000,  on  a 
reduced  cross-section,  before  it  was  opened.  The 
physical  conditions  on  the  Isthmus  are  the  precise 
reverse  of  those  in  Egypt,  and  the  cost  of  every  item 
of  work  was  enormously  greater.  A  material  in- 
crease was  inevitable,  even  with  the  most  careful 
and  economic  management.     The  scarcity  and  dimin- 

*  Harper's  Magazine,  May,  1898,  p.  842,  an  excellent  summary  of 
"  The  Trans-Isthmian  Canal  Problem." 

19 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

ished  effectiveness  of  labor,  losses  from  disease  and 
sickness,  the  interference  and  burden  of  the  heavy 
rainfall,  would  at  least  have  doubled  cost,  and  to 
these  drawbacks  were  added  political  disturbances 
and  local  acts  of  violence,  with  a  home  administra- 
tion of  unparalleled  extravagance/' 

The  estimated  cost  of  the  whole  enterprise  was 
$210,000,000.  In  1888,  five  years  from  the  commence- 
ment of  work,  $300,000,000  were  actually  spent  and 
only  one-third  of  the  work  to  be  done  was  completed. 
The  consequent  failure  of  the  company  was  due  only 
in  a  small  part  to  financial  improprieties.  Reckless 
impatience  was  the  main  cause  of  ruin.  If  a  long 
experimental  stage  had  been  passed  through  first, 
and  the  conditions  of  the  problem  had  been  discovered 
and  overcome  one  by  one  before  work  on  a  great  scale 
was  taken  in  hand,  a  very  different  result  would  have 
been  arrived  at.  In  fact,  most  of  the  $300,000,000 
was  spent  experimentally,  and  therefore  largely 
wasted.  Even  when  the  company  went  into  liquida- 
tion, its  remaining  assets  being  some  $70,000,000 
(including  the  Panama  Railroad),  and  some  $15,000,- 
000  recovered  from  blackmailers,  the  new  compan}^ 
which  continued  the  enterprise,  had  to  spend  most  of 
its  funds  on  the  very  experiments  which  ought  to  have 
been  made  before  regular  work  was  ever  begun.  It 
has,  moreover,  dredged  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  Grande 
and  carried  a  deep  channel  three  miles  out  to  sea;  it 
has  also  built  a  pier  and  port  near  Panama,  and  deep- 
ened the  Emperador  and  Culebra  sections.  The  orig- 
inal design,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  for  a  sea- 
level  canal  —  a  Bosporus.     This  was  soon  changed 

20 


THE    ISTHMUS   OF    PANAMA 

to  a  lake  and  ten-lock  canal,  and  this  has  been  varied 
several  times,  while  the  width  of  the  water-way  has 
been  greatly  reduced.  Of  course,  the  cessation  of 
work  in  1888,  and  the  consequent  scattering  of  the 
staff,  many  of  whom  had  become  immune  from  the 
local  fevers,  was  in  itself  a  great  destruction  of  capital. 

As  the  train  carried  us  along,  I  noticed  that  the 
soil  of  the  middle  region  was  rich  and  red,  and  that 
the  waters  of  the  Chagres,  flowing  along  in  great 
flood,  were  thick  with  it.  Heavy  clouds  drifted  over- 
head; every  moment  we  expected  a  new  torrential 
downpour  to  redrench  the  sopping  earth.  Such  storms 
are  of  daily  occurrence  in  the  rainy  season ;  they  raise 
the  Chagres  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  a  few  hours.  A 
river  like  that  is  indeed  a  wild  neighbor  for  a  canal 
which  has  to  borrow  the  river's  bed  in  several  places. 
Between  Gatun  and  Bujio  came  low  hills,  with  a  few 
cane-walled,  thatched  huts  in  clearings,  and  some 
banana-groves  and  patches  of  indifferent  cultivation, 
but  nature  retains  the  upper  hand. 

Bujio  is  a  finer  village  than  Gatun,  with  great  wealth 
of  corrugated  iron,  and  in  its  neighborhood  are  acres 
on  acres  of  wasted  machinery  lying  about  on  the  ground 
among  trucks  and  numbered  huts  and  bits  of  shaped 
iron  and  steel;  and  there  is  a  street  of  stores  where 
Chinese  swarm,  dressed  in  ugly  European  clothes. 
The  air  here  was  more  reeky  than  ever,  though  a 
storm  had  recently  passed  over.  The  people  came 
crowding  down  to  the  steamer  just  like  any  throng 
of  Hindoos.  Here  was  the  Chagres  River  once  more, 
flowing  with  swift  current,  while  every  flat  place  was 
under  water.     It  is  at  this  spot,  according  to  most  of 

21 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

the  projects,  that  the  great  dam  should  be  built  to  close 
the  Chagres  River  and  catch  its  flood  in  a  lake  which 
at  the  smallest  estimate  would  be  very  large.  Whether 
the  dam  would  withstand  the  sudden  pressure  of  the 
enormous  floods  which  rise  in  this  district  is  a  question 
that  engineers  must  answer.  I  believe  there  is  some 
doubt  about  it. 

Another  field  of  abandoned  machinery,  more  big 
dredges  in  the  river,  then  the  tropical  bush  began 
as  before,  deluged  and  covered  up  in  creepers  and 
saturated  with  wet.  To  continue  cataloguing  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  Canal  Company  is  scarcely 
worth  while.  We  passed  whole  villages  of  empty 
huts  and  more  fields  of  machinery  than  I  could  keep 
count  of.  At  last  came  really  higher  ground  and 
fairly  open  coimtry;  that  is  to  say,  country  that  had 
been  cleared  and  kept  clear  of  bush,  where  the  high- 
est village,  though  most  of  the  houses  in  it  were  empty, 
had  a  healthier  and  more  livable  appearance,  and  the 
air  felt  fresher  than  any  we  had  breathed  thus  far. 
Near  the  station  some  kind  of  a  f^te  was  going  on, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  a  fife-and-drum  band,  while 
a  cricket-match  was  being  played  by  the  negroes,  and 
the  ball  had  just  been  landed  with  a  mighty  swipe 
right  into  the  heart  of  the  neighboring  bush.  We 
thus  came  out  on  the  top  level  and  saw  the  famous 
Culebra  cutting,  which,  to  my  astonishment,  appeared 
practically  finished.  There  were  still  three  thousand 
men  at  work  upon  it,  but  all  that  remained  for  them 
to  do  was  a  relatively  small  deepening  of  the  gigantic 
trench  which  yawned  before  us. 

The  descent  to  the  flat  plain,  at  the  edge  of  which 

22 


THE    ISTHMUS    OF    PANAMA 

the  town  of  Panama  is  built,  carried  us  through  scenery 
in  most  respects  similar  to  that  passed  on  the  ascent, 
though  the  hills  were  more  picturesque,  the  slopes 
more  rapid,  and  the  valleys  more  precipitous.  It  is 
not  on  this  side  that  the  problem  of  the  canal  is  difficult 
of  solution.  The  two  great  difficulties,  as  everybody 
knows,  have  been  to  form  a  stable  cutting  through 
the  rotten  substance  of  the  Culebra  Hill  and  to  deal 
with  the  flood  waters  of  the  Chagres  River.  The 
Culebra  cutting  is  practically  complete,  and  I  do  not 
think  that  any  doubt  remains  as  to  the  success  of  that 
gigantic  undertaking,  but  the  problem  of  the  Chagres 
River  is  not  yet  solved.  One  of  two  things  must  be 
done — either  a  great  lake  must  be  made  to  catch  the 
tremendous  floods  that  come  down  in  the  rainy  season, 
or  the  course  of  the  river  itself  must  be  changed  by 
carrying  a  tunnel  through  from  the  west,  whereby 
the  waters  of  the  Chagres  would  be  thrown  off  down 
the  Pacific  slope  into  the  Bay  of  Panama.  Which  of 
these  alternatives  will  ultimately  be  adopted  I  do  not 
know. 


CHAPTER  III 
A  CENTRAL  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION 

IT  has  been  my  good  or  ill  fortune  to  visit  Panama 
on  three  different  occasions.  Perhaps  the  most 
interesting  of  these  visits  was  the  second,  made 
in  the  summer  of  1890.  A  few  days  before  sailing  from 
London  I  had  met  a  Colombian  gentleman.  ''Is  it  true 
that  there  is  a  revolution  going  forward  in  your  coun- 
try?'' I  asked.  ''That  is  nothing/'  was  his  reply; 
"it  is  our  substitute  for  cricket.  Our  young  men 
must  have  their  games."  A  month  later  I  saw  the 
game  played.     It  proved  to  be  not  unexciting. 

On  the  morning  of  July  24th  we  landed  at  Colon. 
Telegraph  communication  with  Panama  was  interrupt- 
ed, and  the  local  newspapers  were  silent  about  the  exist- 
ence of  military  operations,  but  report  said  that  Panama 
was  besieged  and  was  to  be  stormed  that  day.  "Be- 
sieged!" snorted  our  Yankee  skipper;  "I  have  seen 
these  disturbances.  Two  small  bodies  of  opposing 
troops  come  in  sight  of  one  another.  They  fire  their 
guns  in  the  air  and  then  they  run  away  in  opposite  di- 
rections. That  is  a  Central  American  revolution.  You 
won't  have  any  trouble."  We  climbed  on  board  the 
morning  train,  which  started  as  usual  for  Colon.  I 
sat  beside  a  French  engineer  of  the  Panama  Canal, 
and  was  fully  occupied  for  the  two  or  three  hours  of  the 

24 


A    CENTRAL    AMERICAN    REVOLUTION 

journey  in  observing  the  works  accomplished  or  in  prog- 
ress, which  he  explained  to  me.  Three  thousand  men 
are  still  continually  at  work,  and  the  great  Culebra  cut- 
ting has  been  excavated  down  to  the  level  of  45  metres 
above  the  sea.  At  Culebra  the  engineer  left  me,  and 
a  short  time  afterwards  the  train  halted  in  the  outskirts 
of  Panama.  We  had  heard  no  firing,  and  were  skepti- 
cal about  there  being  any  fighting.  Looking  forward 
along  the  line,  I  saw  a  man  wave  his  hat,  whereupon 
the  train  advanced  slowly.  It  entered  a  shallow  cutting 
with  a  high  bank  on  the  right  (Panama  behind  it)  and 
a  low  one  on  the  left.  Looking  up  to  the  right,  we  saw  a 
few  armed  men,  and  presently  discovered  that  the  whole 
length  of  that  embankment  was  topped  by  a  breast- 
work lined  with  riflemen,  whose  heads  occasionally 
peeped  over  and  looked  at  us.  Three  hundred  yards  or  so 
away  to  the  left  in  a  scrub-covered  swamp  were  an  in- 
determinate number  of  men,  the  attacking  force.  Across 
the  line  a  little  way  ahead  was  a  road-bridge,  which 
proved  to  be  the  object  of  attack.  A  few  hundred  yards 
farther  ahead  was  the  corrugated  iron  railway  station, 
ending  in  a  warehouse  carried  on  a  pier  stretching  out 
into  the  sea.  We  had  not  advanced  many  yards  tow- 
ards the  bridge  before  a  few  shots  were  fired,  the  temp- 
tation of  the  heads  peering  over  at  the  train  probably 
being  too  much  for  the  attacking  force.  They  were  at 
once  replied  to,  and,  before  we  realized  what  was  hap- 
pening, the  train  was  between  two  lines  of  some  2000 
fighting-men,  separated  by  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
and  pumping  lead  at  one  another  from  Mauser  rifles. 
A  shell  dropped  near  the  bridge  as  we  crossed  below  it. 
The  men  on  our  right  fired  over  the  train,  but  the 

25 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

cars  were  often  exposed  to  the  insurgents  on  our  left, 
and  bullets  came  over  in  a  horizontal  stream,  the 
cars  being  freely  hit.  Down  on  the  floor  dropped  the 
passengers  with  singular  unanimity.  ''All  come  for- 
ward to  the  baggage  van/'  shouted  the  guard;  and 
forward  they  went  along  the  corridor  of  the  train,  grovel- 
ling on  hands  and  knees,  the  funniest  sight  imagina- 
able.  There  were  old  and  young,  men  and  women, 
priests,  niggers,  peasants,  bagmen,  globe-trotters,  and 
what  not.  One  very  fat  old  negress  blocked  the  way, 
and  a  yet  fatter  priest  climbed  on  her,  like  one  tortoise 
over  another.  Both  got  wedged  between  the  seats. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  one  place  was  as  safe  or  dangerous 
as  another. 

In  this  condition  the  train  stopped  in  the  goods  station, 
and  every  one  was  left  to  shift  for  himself.  There  were, 
of  course,  no  porters  or  officials  of  any  sort ;  there  was 
nowhere  for  the  passengers  to  go.  Bullets  were  coming 
freely  through  the  shed,  and  a  few  hours  later  our  train 
was  itself  the  main  point  of  attack,  the  two  opposing 
forces  fighting  between  the  wheels  and  through  the 
windows.  At  present,  however,  the  attack  was  only 
beginning  to  be  pressed  home.  The  passengers  having 
local  knowledge  melted  away  in  a  moment,  and  we 
foreigners,  a  dozen  men,  were  left  like  sheep  without  a 
shepherd.  Under  the  impression  that  I  was  going  tow- 
ards the  town,  I  walked  along  the  shore  and  came  out 
directly  into  the  open,  faced  by  a  line  of  skirmishers, 
who  gave  me  a  warm  reception.  I  doubled  back  with 
no  undue  delay  and  entered  the  American  company's 
warehouse  on  the  pier,  wherein  a  great  multi-colored 
mob  were  sheltering.    Several  individuals  were  wounded 

26 


A    CENTRAL    AMERICAN   REVOLUTION 

there  in  rapid  succession.  Every  man  I  asked  for 
geographical  information  was  in  no  condition  to  give 
it,  till  I  struck  a  young  Jamaica  negro,  who  professed 
to  know  the  position  of  the  American  Consulate.  By 
this  time  I  had  lost  all  trace  of  my  fellow-travellers, 
who  were  somewhere  in  the  crowded  warehouse,  so  the 
negro  and  I  sallied  forth  alone  down  a  bullet-swept 
street  and  then  around  a  corner.  We  passed  carts  laden 
with  dead  and  wounded,  bumping  hideously  against 
one  another  over  the  uneven  road.  The  streets  were 
practically  deserted,  but  almost  every  house  displayed  a 
flag,  English  and  American  flags  being  commonest — 
any  flag,  indeed,  except  the  Colombian.  It  looked  as 
though  some  fete  was  about  to  take  place.  Through 
doors  ajar  and  barred  windows  frightened  faces  peeped 
and  withdrew.  We  passed  two  men  firing  their  rifles 
this  way  and  that,  in  a  state  of  excitement,  either 
drunk  or  running  amuck.  Bullets  were  always  whis- 
tling overhead  and  pinging  against  the  houses. 

The  American  Consulate  was  full  of  refugees,  for 
whom  the  hospitable  Consul  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  find 
food,  none  having  entered  the  town  for  some  days. 
Newly  directed,  I  found  my  way  to  the  house  of  Mr. 
Mallet,  the  English  Consul,  who  most  kindly  received  me. 
This  house  also  had  been  struck  by  plenty  of  missiles, 
and  I  suppose  that  few  houses  in  the  town  escaped. 
Later  in  the  day  my  fellow-travellers  told  their  story. 
After  waiting  on  the  pier  under  fire  for  an  hour  or  two, 
they  fortunately  attracted  the  attention  of  a  boat's  crew 
of  H.  M.  S.  Leander,  and  were  rowed  off  to  a  schooner 
out  of  the  reach  of  danger,  where  they  remained  without 
food  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  watching  the  battle, 

27 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

which  went  forward  on  the  beach  and  a  short  way  inland 
before  their  eyes.  There  was  no  firing  of  guns  into  the 
air  and  running  away.  The  combat  was  waged  on  both 
sides  with  the  utmost  bravery,  the  opposing  forces  being 
always  at  close  range.  Several  times  the  insurgents 
charged  the  barricaded  bridge  and  the  intrenched  rail- 
way embankment  and  station.  Once  they  all  but  car- 
ried the  position  by  direct  assault.  They  could  not 
turn  it  for  it  was  protected  at  one  end  by  the  sea  and  at 
the  other  by  a  pathless  swamp.  When  evening  came 
the  position  of  the  two  parties  was  unchanged.  There 
were  unsuccessful  night  attacks,  and  firing  went  on  al- 
most all  night. 

Neither  side  had  any  ambulance  arrangements  worth 
mention.  Asked  for  their  ambulance,  the  insurgents 
produced  two  spades.  Accordingly,  Captain  Fegan 
landed  an  ambulance  party  and  a  hundred  men  from 
H.M.S.  Leander  next  morning,  and  a  suspension  of  hos- 
tilities was  arranged.  The  scenes  in  and  about  the 
trenches  were  of  the  most  horrible  description.  Nearly 
one-quarter  of  the  troops  engaged  on  both  sides  were 
killed  or  wounded.  The  trenches  were  full  of  dead. 
The  wounded  had  crawled  into  neighboring  houses  and 
hidden  themselves  under  beds  and  in  various  holes  and 
corners,  where  many  of  them  had  died.  Nothing  had 
been  done  for  them.  No  surgical  treatment  whatever 
had  been  applied.  The  injured  men  displayed  the  ut- 
most apathy.  They  neither  groaned  nor  complained. 
One  or  two  came  to  have  bullets  cut  out,  and  stood  ap- 
parently unconcerned  throughout  painful  operations. 
Exjually  apathetic  were  the  uninjured.  They  offered 
no  help  to  the  British  tars,  and  even  refused  to  lend  a 

28 


A   CENTRAL    AMERICAN   REVOLUTION 

hand  towards  moving  the  wounded  when  asked  to  do  so. 
No  attempt  had  been  made  to  collect,  still  less  to  bury, 
the  dead,  upon  whom  the  tropical  sun  had  been  pour- 
ing down  for  a  whole  day.  Fighting  recommenced  the 
second  afternoon,  and  was  continued  all  night  again, 
but  the  insurgents'  task  was  now  hopeless.  The  gov- 
ernment had  received  reinforcements  at  Colon,  and  it 
was  a  mere  question  of  hours  w^hen  they  would  arrive 
by  train.  Still,  the  insurgents  continued  the  fight, 
hurling  themselves  against  an  impregnable  position. 
Their  two  field-guns  were  tolerably  well  handled,  but 
the  defences  were  too  strong.  All  night  long  the  rain 
of  bullets  poured  upon  the  town;  the  principal  hotel 
was  hit  every  few  minutes,  and  the  visitors  lying  in 
their  beds  had  their  windows  broken  or  heard  the  bullets 
hammering  on  the  walls. 

On  the  third  day  the  ambulance  party  again  went 
forth.  Before  the  morning  was  far  advanced  the  in- 
surgents, after  receiving  a  guarantee  that  no  one's 
life  should  be  taken,  made  an  otherwise  uncondi- 
tional surrender.  The  town  immediately  came  to  life. 
Though  the  inhabitants  almost  to  a  man  sympathized 
with  the  insurgents,  they  hurried  out  into  the  streets 
wearing  the  government  colors,  and  all  was  rejoicing 
and  triumph.  An  amnesty  was  at  once  issued  to  all 
political  offenders,  and  the  revolution  was  at  an  end  so 
far  as  Panama  was  concerned.  The  disorganized  local 
authority  was  incapable  of  dealing  with  the  problem  of 
burying  the  dead.  The  wounded  had  been  carried  by 
the  sailors  to  the  hospitals  of  the  Canal  Company  and 
the  town,  where,  however,  there  was  no  accommodation 
except  the  floor  for  more  than  a  small  portion  of  them. 

29 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

The  dead  still  lay  in  the  roads,  the  streets,  the  trenches, 
and  beneath  bushes  where  they  fell.  Ghastly  sights  met 
the  eye  on  all  sides — frightful  things  no  longer  recogniz- 
able as  men.  Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  car- 
rion crows  came  flying  in  from  all  directions  and  settled 
upon  the  field  of  battle.  At  night  some  attempt  was 
made  to  burn  the  bodies  with  petroleum,  but  it  was  un- 
successful—  indeed,  onlj^  made  matters  worse.  Next 
day  the  condition  of  things  grew  yet  more  disgusting 
and  dangerous  to  the  public  health.  A  wind  blowing 
over  the  trenches  to  the  town  rendered  it  almost  unin- 
habitable. Next  night  a  better -organized  effort  was 
made.  Big  fires  were  lit  and  well  supplied  with  brush- 
wood and  oil,  and  most  of  the  bodies  were  disposed  of 
in  a  sufficiently  grewsome  fashion.  There  was  nothing 
exceptional  in  this  treatment  of  the  dead.  It  is  the 
South  American  revolutionary  fashion.  All  over 
South  America,  where  there  have  been  battles,  you 
find  human  bones  lying  about  until  nature  does  away 
with  them.  Sometimes,  perhaps,  as  near  Lima,  you 
may  meet  with  a  monumental  bone-house,  where  the 
skeletons  have  been  gleaned  and  piled  together,  but 
that  is  the  exception.  The  rule  is  to  leave  the  dead 
where  they  fall,  for  the  sun  and  the  crows  to  deal  with 
after  their  fashion. 

During  the  week  I  spent  at  Panama  and  in  its  neigh- 
borhood, in  1898, 1  devoted  most  of  my  time  to  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  present  condition  and  past  history  of 
the  canal ;  and  I  concluded,  as  I  believe  every  one  con- 
cludes who  investigates  the  matter,  that  the  canal  can 
be  and  will  be  finished  at  no  very  distant  date  and 
no  very  vast  expenditure  of  money,  and  this  whether 

30 


PANAMA    CATHEDRAL 


.....J* 


^.^ 


PALM    AVENUE,   PANAMA 


A    CENTRAL   AMERICAN    REVOLUTION 

the  Nicaragua  Canal  is  made  or  not.  It  is  impossible 
to  imagine  that,  when  such  an  enormous  fraction  of 
the  work  has  been  completed,  it  will  be  allowed  to  go 
to  ruin.  If  the  worse  comes  to  the  worst,  and  the 
French  Concession  lapses  and  the  works  revert  to 
the  Republic  of  Colombia,  it  is  obvious  that  the  gov- 
ernment will  be  willing  to  get  them  completed,  at  how- 
ever low  a  price  it  may  be  necessary  for  them  to  reckon 
the  work  that  has  been  done.  I  have  not  been  over  any 
part  of  the  site  of  the  Nicaragua  Canal,  but  one  fact 
about  the  region  through  which  that  must  pass  is,  I 
believe,  admitted  by  all — it  is  a  region  where  earth- 
quakes are  very  frequent.  Now  whether  a  lock- 
canal  can  be  safely  maintained  in  an  earthquake 
region,  no  one  knows.  Possibly  the  locks  might  be 
frequently  deranged  or  put  entirely  out  of  action. 
No  such  misfortune  is  likely  to  interfere  with  the 
locks  of  the  Panama  Canal,  for  I  believe  the  Isthmus, 
in  this  neighborhood,  at  any  rate,  is  free  from  earth- 
quakes. Undoubtedly  it  would  be  well  to  have  two 
canals,  and  that  may  be  the  outcome.  But  if  there 
is  to  be  only  one,  the  short  Panama  Canal,  which  is 
now  in  so  advanced  a  state  of  excavation,  undoubt- 
edly offers  the  best  chance  of  success. 

As  a  town  Panama  is  greatly  to  be  preferred  to 
Colon,  for  Colon  is  nothing  but  a  nineteenth-century 
settlement,  while  Panama  has  some  of  the  dignity 
and  picturesqueness  of  an  old  Spanish  city.  It  has 
its  churches,  its  large  cathedral  and  fine  houses, 
and  is  apparently  a  more  important  centre  of  trade. 
The  hotel  was  haunted  by  a  most  entertaining 
crowd  of  old   inhabitants,  who,  as   usual,  protested 

31 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

against  any  reflections  on  the  salubriousness  of  the 
city. 

"  Yellow  -  fever,  my  dear  sir?  We  never  have  it; 
healthiest  place  in  these  regions;  never  had  fever 
in  my  life,  and  Tve  lived  here  fifty  years  come  next 
January.  Now,  for  a  pest-house,  take  Colon  or  Guay- 
aquil. Those  are  foul  places,  where  they  have  fever 
all  the  time;  but  Panama  is  as  good  a  place  to  live 
in  as  there  is  in  the  world.'' 

"But  it's  dull  here,"  interrupted  his  neighbor. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "damned  dull;  but  it  is 
better  here  than  at  other  places,  and  if  only  the  canal 
were  finished  we  should  look  up.  Yes,  sir;  if  the 
United  States  took  it  up,  we  should  finish  that  canal 
in  four  years ;  and  we  would,  but  the  Company  wants 
us  to  buy  all  its  rusty  machines  at  the  price  they  paid 
for  them.  No,  sir;  we  don't  buy  a  dead  hog  when 
we  want  a  live  one." 

These  old  fogies  of  the  town  were  full  of  reminis- 
cences; some  of  them  were  Forty-niners,  and  fine 
tales  they  had  to  tell  of  their  adventures  in  old  days, 
crossing  the  Isthmus  partly  by  the  Chagres,  and 
then  by  mules  over  the  hills;  and  how  many  people 
died  by  the  way,  and  how  many  of  those  that  they 
had  started  with  they  never  saw  again.  And  then 
there  was  the  talk  about  the  canal,  and  how  money 
had  been  poured  out  like  water,  and  how  the  engi- 
neers and  the  contractors  and  the  contractors'  men 
had  died  one  after  another  like  flies;  of  the  waste 
of  life,  waste  of  money,  waste  of  everything,  that 
they  had  seen  and  battened  on.  But  one  and  all 
believed  that   sooner    or   later   the   canal  would   be 

2^2 


A   CENTRAL    AMERICAN   REVOLUTION 

finished,  and  the  great  days  of  Panama  would  come 
again. 

Time  did  not  hang  heavy  on  my  hands,  for  I  went 
out  to  see  the  canal,  or  drove  through  the  beautiful 
Hospital  Park,  which  overlooks  the  bay  and  its  islands, 
and  where  the  cheerful  Mother  Superior  received  us 
with  utmost  kindness,  and  sent  for  an  English  Sister 
to  come  and  tell  us  about  the  place.  If  the  French 
Canal  Company  had  done  nothing  else  than  build 
this  hospital,  Panama  at  all  events  would  have  to 
remember  it  with  thankfulness.  Not  far  away  is  the 
enormous  cemetery,  which  tells  its  own  tale ;  and  beside 
it  is  a  hideous  coffin-strewn  patch  of  land,  reserved 
for  the  Chinese,  where  the  dead  are  left  till  their  rela- 
tives, if  they  have  any,  can  dig  them  up  and  take 
them  back  again  to  China. 

Panama,  in  fact,  is  not  really  a  bad  place  to  live  in ; 
such,  at  all  events,  was  the  mature  opinion  of  our 
consul,  Mr.  Mallet.  It  is  feverish,  of  course,  has  its 
own  very  choice  fever,  and  is  liable  to  epidemics,  but 
its  situation  is  beautiful,  on  one  of  the  loveliest  bays 
in  the  world,  dotted  with  islands  which  form  salubri- 
ous holiday  resorts.  In  the  dry  and  comparatively 
healthy  season  the  country  behind  the  town  is  a  splen- 
did and  easily  accessible  sporting-ground.  There  is 
alligator -shooting  also  to  be  had  up  the  creeks,  and 
the  continual  flow  of  travellers  passing  through  pre- 
vents the  stagnation  which  is  felt  in  towns  less  im- 
mediately on  one  of  the  world's  highways. 
C 


CHAPTER  IV 
PANAMA    TO    LIMA 

ON  the  5th  of  August  we  sailed  away  on  the 
Pacific  Steam  Navigation  Company's  mail- 
steamer  Peru.  These  steamers,  which  pa- 
trol the  west  coast  of  South  America,  never  have  to 
face  a  really  heavy  sea,  and  are  therefore  built  in  a 
fashion  not  possible  for  ordinary  ocean-going  boats. 
All  the  cabins  open  to  the  deck,  so  that  you  can  lie 
on  your  deck-chair  in  front  of  your  own  door.  Few 
lines  of  steamers  have  a  more  comfortable  fleet,  but 
the  boats  are  by  no  means  fast.  They  only  travel 
about  one  hundred  miles  a  day,  including  halts. 

From  the  ship,  lying  a  mile  or  two  off  the  town, 
close  to  a  pretty,  wooded  island,  the  view  of  the  bay 
was  very  beautiful.  To  the  eastward,  a  few  miles  off, 
were  the  site  and  ruins  of  Panama,  which  Morgan 
and  his  buccaneers  cruelly  pillaged  and  burned, 
after  boldly  marching  across  the  Isthmus,  in  January, 
1 67 1.  Hazy  in  the  distance  were  the  Pearl  Islands, 
where  in  1685  the  buccaneers  lay,  under  the  command 
of  Edward  Davis,  awaiting  the  Spanish  treasure-fleet 
from  Lima,  with  Dampier  on  board  writing  a  journal. 
The  Spaniards  succeeded  in  landing  the  treasure  be- 
times, so  that  the  buccaneers  had  nothing  to  win 
by  fighting;  but  if  a  battle  had  taken  place,  and  the 

34 


PANAMA   TO    LIMA 

command  of  the  South  Seas  had  been,  as  it  probably 
would  have  been,  won  by  the  buccaneers,  an  inde- 
pendent buccaneer  realm  would  probably  have  arisen 
and  the  course  of  South  American  history  might 
have  been  different. 

As  we  sailed  off,  the  Bay  of  Panama  put  on  all  its 
beauty.  A  gorgeous  cirque  of  rainy-season  clouds 
marshalled  themselves  around  upon  the  hills — piled 
monsters,  rearing  aloft  like  a  wave  gathered  for  its 
plunge,  sunshine  on  its  brow  and  purple  gloom  in  its 
bosom,  or  like  a  range  of  snow-mountains  founded 
on  the  forest-covered  hills.  The  Pearl  Islands  and 
the  coast  disappeared;  the  calm,  opalescent  sea  and 
pale-blue  sky  above  remained.  A  night  of  beauty 
followed,  breathing  soft,  warm  air.  The  pole-star 
trembled  on  the  northern  horizon,  while  the  moon 
and  her  perfect  reflection  floated  serenely  in  sky  and 
sea. 

The  weather  at  Panama  had  been  most  indubita- 
bly hot — a  steaming  heat  that  sucked  the  strength 
out  of  a  man — but  before  we  reached  Guayaquil  (even 
the  very  day  that  we  crossed  the  equator)  the  heat 
was  gone,  and  I  found  that  woollen  underclothing 
suitable  for  a  London  winter  was  not  uncomfortable 
on  the  line  in  the  Pacific.  Of  course,  when  we  came 
to  Guayaquil  and  landed  it  was  warmer  again,  but 
the  sea  down  this  western  coast  is  always  cool,  ow4ng 
to  the  Antarctic  current.  The  coast  of  Ecuador, 
where  we  first  saw  it,  was  low  and  dull,  lumpy  land 
seen  under  a  gray  and  overcast  sky.  Its  historic 
interest,  however,  is  great,  for  one  cannot  visit  these 
lands  without  thinking  much  of  Pizarro  and  his  bold 

35 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

companions,  men  whose  rare  bravery  will  always 
cause  their  crimes  to  be  less  regarded  than  the  marvel 
of  their  adventures.  Little  love  though  I  bear  to  the 
Conquistadores,  I  found  it  impossible  to  look  unmoved 
upon  Puna  Lsland,  where  Pizarro  fought  his  first 
fight  with  the  Coast  Indians. 

In  three  days  and  a  half  from  Panama  we  anchored 
in  the  river  of  Guayaquil  by  night,  and  I  landed  early ; 
not,  indeed,  in  any  eagerness  to  see  the  town,  but 
all  agog  to  climb  the  little  mound  of  Santa  Ana, 
whence  on  rare  occasions  giant  Chimborazo  is  visi- 
ble in  all  his  greatness.  I  might  have  saved  myself 
the  trouble,  however,  for  not  the  faintest  sign  of  a 
mountain  was  in  sight,  only  an  extensive  flat  country, 
with  a  noble  river  more  than  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
wide  winding  through  it,  and  some  small  hills  ris- 
ing in  various  directions.  It  was  a  picturesque  view 
enough,  but  not  what  a  mountaineer  came  forth  to 
see.  The  point  where  I  stood  was,  I  imagine,  the 
spot  daily  visited  by  Mr.  Whymper,  when  he  was 
waiting  to  start  up-country  for  his  expedition  to  the 
Andes  of  Ecuador,  but  I  gather  that  he  was  no  more 
fortunate  in  the  matter  of  view  than  I  was. 

Descending  the  little  hill,  we  tumbled  into  the  back 
garden  of  one  Brosel,  who  looked  upon  us  with  em- 
phatic suspicion,  an  attitude  of  mind  fully  shared 
by  his  dogs. 

"What  do  you  come  here  for?"  he  said. 

"To  take  your  photograph/'  I  replied. 

"To  take  my  photograph!  But  how  can  you  do 
that?" 

"  I  will  do  it  with  this  box,''  I  said. 

36 


PANAMA   TO    LIMA 

''Well,  that  is  a  good  idea!  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do?'' 

"  Sit  on  that  chair  and  put  the  dogs  out  of  the  way — 
all  the  dogs." 

''Very  good/'  he  said,  "but  I  must  first  go  in  and 
brush  up." 

He  disappeared  and  came  out  again  in  a  moment, 
like  a  quick-change  man,  in  a  new  suit  of  store  clothes. 
After  no  little  discussion  we  posed  him  on  a  crooked 
chair  on  the  hill-side,  and  all  was  ready  for  the  act, 
when  he  jumped  up  and  cried  out : 

"  Stop !  Stop !  How  much  are  you  going  to  make 
me  pay  for  this?" 

"Nothing,"  I  said. 

"That's  impossible,"  he  said.  "What  will  you  get 
out  of  me?" 

"  I  will  get  nothing  out  of  you." 

"But  I  think  you  will,"  he  said.  "You  will  be 
wanting  something  or  you  will  not  give  me  the  pho- 
tograph." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  calmed  his  fears  and 
took  the  photograph. 

The  town  of  Guayaquil,  like  so  many  tropical  cities, 
stands  on  a  reclaimed  swamp.  One  wonders  how 
the  people  live  in  these  places.  I  imagine  in  Guaya- 
quil they  would  not  live  if  the  town  were  not  period- 
ically burned  down.  Fires  destroy  the  rapidly  ac- 
cumulating filth.  One  such  fire  had  swept  away 
practically  the  whole  town  a  year  or  two  before  my 
visit.  The  place  was  still  in  process  of  rebuilding. 
The  new  houses  had  quite  a  magnificent  appearance. 
Looked  at  not  too  close,  one  might  believe  them  to 

37 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

be  splendid  structures  of  stone.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
they  were  of  split  bamboo  and  plaster,  with  corru- 
gated iron  roofs,  and  you  could  stick  a  penknife 
through  the  walls.  The  poor  people  in  the  suburbs 
dwelt  in  wretched  huts  without  walls,  built  upon 
piles,  as  in  the  slums  of  Colon.  I  asked  a  Guayaquil 
gentleman  how  he  came  to  be  alive  in  such  a  climate. 
"Alive!"  he  said.  "In  Guayaquil?  Why  not?  It's 
one  of  the  healthiest  places  in  the  world.  Now  Pan- 
ama or  Colon,  or  places  like  those'' — et  cetera.  I  be- 
gan to  know  this  tune. 

A  little  distance  south  of  Guayaquil  begins  the 
desert-coast  region  of  South  America,  which  con- 
tinues uninterruptedly  as  far  south  as  Coquimbo  in 
Chile.  The  change  from  fertility  to  mere  sandy 
wastes  is  made  in  a  few  miles,  and  nothing  can  be 
imagined  more  barren  and  desolate  than  is  the  shore 
thenceforward.  There  is  little  attraction  to  land  at 
the  ports  on  this  forbidding  coast.  They  are  not  proper 
ports  at  all,  but  only  roadsteads,  where  the  ship  lies 
at  anchor  while  dilatory  people  bring  the  cargo  out 
on  lighters,  and  officials  invent  excuses  for  wasting  the 
ship's  time.  Now  it  is  a  bishop  for  whom  one  is  kept 
waiting  several  hours;  now  some  local  functionary 
or  some  local  functionary's  cargo.  In  the  Peruvian 
manana-\a.nd  such  trifles  are  not  worth  considering. 
If  gringos  are  annoyed,  so  much  the  better ;  no  one  else 
minds.  Only  at  the  north-Peruvian  port  of  Payta 
did  I  care  to  land,  while  quantities  of  cattle  and  bales 
of  cotton  were  being  shipped.  The  cattle  were  brought 
out  in  flat-bottomed  barges,  about  a  hundred  on  a 
barge.     One  by  one  they  were  hoisted  on  board  b}^  a 

38 


PANAMA    TO    LIMA 

rope  passed  round  their  horns.  The  process  was  not 
devoid  of  cruelty.  I  am  told  that  the  beasts  are  driven 
down  from  up-country,  and  that  they  have  no  food, 
the  last  day  at  least,  on  the  road.  Neither  are  they 
fed  on  board  ship.  If  the  voyage  lasts  three  days, 
hungry  they  go. 

Payta  is  a  dead-and-alive  place,  built  of  bamboo 
huts,  where  it  only  rains  once  in  seven  years,  and 
where  all  the  drinking-water  has  to  be  brought  by 
train  from  the  interior.  Nothing  grows  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Sand  and  gravel  slopes  behind  the  town 
lead  steeply  up  to  a  flat,  far-stretching  desert-plateau 
called  Tabalazo,  on  which  lies  a  bed  of  recent  marine 
deposits,  containing  quantities  of  well-preserved  shells 
belonging  to  existing  species.  This  dreary  town 
was  for  the  time  enlivened  by  rumors  of  a  revolu- 
tion said  to  be  beginning  in  the  interior.  A  Peru- 
vian man-of-war  was  lying  at  anchor,  having  recent- 
ly landed  some  troops.  A  gentleman  of  influence, 
whom  the  government  wished  to  remove  from  the 
scene  of  temptation,  was  hustled  on  board  our  boat, 
with  orders  to  repair  to  Lima  and  stay  there  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health  as  long  as  the  revolution  lasted. 

While  lying  off  Payta  we  were  boarded  by  various 
traders  in  so-called  Panama  hats,  which,  indeed,  are 
not  made  at  Panama  at  all,  but  only  at  a  group  of  vil- 
lages about  fifty  miles  inland  from  Payta.  Gone  are 
the  great  days  of  the  Panama  hat — the  days  when  a 
wealthy  slave-owner  would  pay  a  hundred  dollars  for 
one  of  finest  make;  yet  even  now  the  genuine  arti- 
cle is  a  far  better-made  affair  than  the  best  London 
shops  would  enable  one  to  guess.     It  happened  that 

39 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

one  of  our  passengers  was  an  experienced  dealer  in 
Panama  hats,  and  he  explained  to  us  the  difference 
in  quality  and  the  different  kinds  that  were  offered 
for  sale. 

"This  hat/'  he  said,  "is  worth  five  dollars,  this 
ten,  and  this  twenty.  If  you  were  to  go  to  the  vil- 
lages you  would  no  doubt  find  better  ones,  but  it  is 
seldom  that  they  make  the  very  best  now.'' 

I  was  wearing  what  I  believed  to  be  a  Panama  hat, 
which  I  had  bought  in  London  and  paid  a  pound 
for.  I  handed  it  to  him,  saying,  "And  what  is  this 
worth?" 

"Paris  machine-made — one  dollar,''  was  his  prompt 
and  doubtless  accurate  reply. 

There  also  came  on  board,  and  sailed  with  us  a 
stage  or  two,  numerous  petty  dealers  in  fruit  and 
vegetables.  This  was  the  case  not  only  at  Payta, 
but  at  most  ports  down  the  coast,  the  bi-weekly  steamer 
serving  the  purpose  of  an  itinerant  market  for  poultry 
and  vegetables.  The  west  coast  of  South  America 
throughout  the  desert  belt  is  about  as  dull  a  seaboard 
as  you  will  find  in  the  world.  Such,  at  all  events, 
was  my  experience  of  it.  I  had  expected  that  the 
coast-range  of  mountains  would  be  visible  at  least 
sometimes,  and  had  pictured  mj^self  sitting  on  the 
deck  of  the  steamer  in  the  comfortable  enjoyment 
of  tropical  heat  tempered  by  sea-breezes,  while  the 
outlying  ranges  of  the  Cordillera  passed  before  my 
view  from  hour  to  hour.  Instead  of  this,  all  that  I 
saw  beneath  a  roof  of  cloud,  and  through  an  atmos- 
phere thick  with  moisture  or  dust,  was  the  sandy 
margin  of  the  continent  backed  by  bare  slopes  reach- 

40 


"  \  tS\      ^MP'^i^ 

■^^^■^^^^■^^■■^^^■^■iHBIHi^HH^^H 

1       '^^fM 

1^^^^ 

t.  ■  -.-  -  ■  t- 

LADING  CATTLE 


A  BALSA  LADEN  WITH  PETROLEUM 


PANAMA   TO    LIMA 

ing  up  to  hills  of  mean  appearance,  whose  summits 
were  frequently  lost  to  view  in  the  heavy  sky.  Only 
once  was  there  a  momentary  glimpse  of  greater  alti- 
tudes, or  even  a  suggeston  of  snow.  The  nights 
were  always  cold;  one  was  wet  and  foggy,  too,  the 
siren  blowing  for  hours — the  tropics  forsooth!  Mo- 
notony and  insignificance  were  the  general  char- 
acteristics of  the  scene.  Not  indeed  that  the  abso- 
lute barrenness  of  the  desert  coast  had  not  a  certain 
dignity  of  its  own;  the  desert  is  always  dignified;  its 
mere  emptiness  suffices  to  endow  it  with  a  sense  of 
breadth.  But  the  ports  and  human  settlements  had 
a  sordid  appearance  to  my  eyes.  Not  one  of  them 
possessed  any  picturesqueness  or  excited  a  trace  of 
human  attachment  towards  it  as  a  place  of  abode. 
Each  town,  if  these  collections  of  wooden  shanties 
with  corrugated  iron  roofs  can  be  called  towns,  bore 
on  the  face  of  it  the  fact  that  no  human  being  would 
live  there  if  he  could  help  it.  Eten,  Pacasmayo, 
Salaverry — w^e  anchored  off  them  all  in  succession. 
They  had  their  cheap  iron  piers  where  the  lighters 
were  laden,  their  railway  stations  for  short  lines  run- 
ning inland,  and  that  was  all.  At  each  we  lay  a 
wearisome  number  of  hours,  impatient  to  move  on; 
and,  now  that  they  are  gone,  none  of  them  lingers  in 
my  memory  as  less  dreary,  less  unattractive  than  the 
rest.  The  only  incidents  I  remember  in  the  voyage 
from  one  port  to  another  was  the  sight  of  here  and 
there  a  whale  or  a  whaling- vessel  ''trying  off,''  or  a 
guano  island,  or  rocks  haunted  by  seals.  But  such 
slight  excitements  were  few  and  far  between,  so  that 
when  at  last,  on  the  15th  of  August,  we  anchored  off 

41 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Callao,  with  four  days  to  spare,  I  landed  with  no  httle 
satisfaction. 

Nothing,  I  think,  indicates  more  plainly  the  en- 
thusiasm with  which  Pizarro  and  his  companions 
set  forth  on  their  enterprise  of  South  American  con- 
quest than  the  fact  that,  after  sailing  as  they  did 
for  weeks  and  months  down  this  forbidding  coast, 
they  still  retained  faith  in  the  wealth  of  that  unseen 
interior  which  in  due  season  they  landed  to  visit. 
The  mere  sight  of  so  barren  and  apparently  value- 
less a  region  would  have  determined  the  hopeful- 
ness of  an  ordinary  sane  man.  But,  I  presume,  the 
wonderful  experiences  of  Cortez  in  Mexico  had  so 
worked  upon  the  imaginations  of  his  contempora- 
ries that  they  saw  gold  everywhere,  and  would  not 
have  been  surprised  to  find  it  lying  about  in  solid 
lumps  upon  the  most  desert  shore.  Of  course,  at 
the  mouths  of  the  fertile  valleys  were  large  native 
towns,  and  the  mounds  which  to-day  contain  their 
ruins  are  in  some  cases  visible  to  a  passing  ship. 
Could  we  have  landed  and  inspected  these,  the  voy- 
age from  Guayaquil  to  Lima  would  not  have  been 
so  dull. 

We  landed  at  Callao  just  in  time  to  catch  the  evening 
train  to  Lima,  while  the  sun,  nearing  the  horizon, 
poured  a  flood  of  crimson  orange  light  below  the  ever- 
lasting pall  of  cloud  that  at  this  time  of  year  hangs 
over  the  coast  region.  Purple  hills  sloped  up  on 
either  hand  from  the  level  fields  of  sugar-cane,  maize, 
etc.,  which  were  divided  from  one  another  by  adobe 
walls  shining  crimson  in  the  sunset  light.  The  walls 
and  houses  thus  glorified  seemed  as  though  built  of 

42 


PANAMA   TO    LIMA 

some  priceless  substance,  but  the  glory  was  evanes- 
cent. Almost  before  the  effect  had  faded  we  were  in 
the  capital  town  of  Peru,  where  I  was  most  hospitably 
entertained  by  Mr.  Alfred  St.  John,  the  British  charge 
d'affaires. 

Even  to  the  eye  of  a  casual  visitor  Lima  is  a 
decidedly  impressive  town.  The  latticed  bow -win- 
dows, reminiscent  of  Moorish  influences  from  the 
Far  East,  render  the  streets  highly  picturesque.  The 
great  old  Spanish  houses,  with  their  arcaded  patios 
and  their  galleries,  sometimes  enlivened  by  blossom- 
ing shrubs  or  trees,  of  which  the  passer-by  gains  a 
glimpse  through  the  open  portes-coch^res,  tell  of  the 
rich  and  splendid  society  of  by -gone  days.  The 
cathedral  and  churches,  if  not  architecturally  beauti- 
ful, are  at  all  events  imposing;  and  the  population 
that  throng  the  roads  show  that  if  there  is  no  longer 
an  abounding  prosperity,  there  is  at  least  a  tolerably 
high  standard  of  average  comfort.  By  all  accounts 
the  society  of  Lima  is  pleasant  and  refined.  The 
ladies  are  said  to  be  charming,  and  those  best  able 
to  judge  think  most  highly  of  the  city  as  a  place  of 
abode.  A  passer-by  like  myself,  the  length  of  whose 
visit  was  measured  by  hours,  had,  of  course,  no  op- 
portunity for  forming  an  opinion.  What  sights  there 
were  I  made  haste  to  see — the  desiccated  body  of  Pi- 
zarro  in  a  glass  box  in  the  cathedral,  a  rather  second- 
rate  museum  of  Peruvian  antiquities  in  a  building 
erected  for  an  exhibition,  the  Botanical  Garden,  and 
a  few  of  the  principal  old  houses.  That  which  was 
once  the  abode  of  the  Inquisition  was  now  in  the  occu- 
pation of  the  French  Minister,  Monsieur  Larrouy,  of 

43 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

whose  kindness  to  me  I  retain  a  warm  recollection. 
The  palace  occupied  by  the  President  and  his  ministers 
is  said  to  date,  in  part,  at  any  rate,  from  the  days  of 
Pizarro,  while  in  one  of  the  court-yards  there  is  a 
tree  reported  to  have  been  planted  by  the  conqueror 
himself.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the  streets  were 
dirty,  ill-paved,  and  close.  The  sanitary  condition  of 
the  town,  I  imagine,  leaves  a  good  deal  to  be  desired. 
As  a  place  to  sleep  in,  Lima  is  by  no  means  to  be  recom- 
mended. The  cocks  crow  there  with  a  frequency 
and  vigor  which  I  understand  is  regarded  as  an  ex- 
cellent sign  by  poultry  fanciers,  but  is  far  from  con- 
ducive to  the  slumber  of  neighbors.  The  police  and 
watchmen  are  apparently  under  orders  to  warn  thieves 
of  their  whereabouts  at  frequent  intervals  by  loudly 
blowing  on  their  whistles. 

Next  morning  at  an  early  hour  I  hastened  to  the 
railway  station.  The  weather  was  depressing  and 
drizzly,  the  roads  muddy;  all  the  people  who  were 
out  were  well  wrapped  up  with  shawls  round  their 
mouths.  Thus  I  started  to  make  the  ascent  to  the 
crest  of  the  Andes  by  the  famous  Oroya  Railway, 
which,  starting  from  sea-level,  takes  you  in  nine 
hours  to  an  altitude  somewhat  higher  than  that  of 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc.  As  we  left  the  town 
by  a  valley  leading  inland,  the  low  mists  began  to 
clear  away  and  disclosed  upon  the  hills  a  belt  of  me- 
tallic green  lustre  caused  by  vegetation  springing 
up  at  this  time  of  year  where  the  mists  rest.  The 
valley  produces  rich  crops  of  corn,  sugar,  cotton, 
and  tropical  fruits  wherever  artificial  irrigation  reaches. 
The  irrigated  area  is  very  much  smaller  than  it  used 

44 


PANAMA    TO    LIMA 

to  be  in  pre-Columbian  days.  Terraced  fields,  once 
irrigated  by  now  ruined  aqueducts,  stretch  up  the  hill- 
sides in  all  directions.  The  terraces,  falling  into  decay, 
show  how  much  larger  an  area  was  under  crops  in  the 
days  of  the  Incas,  and  account  for  the  dense  population 
which  inhabited  the  numerous  ruined  villages  that 
are  seen  along  the  foot  of  the  hills.  There  is  some- 
thing inexpressibly  sad  in  the  sight  of  these  abandoned 
terraces,  broken  watercourses,  ruined  villages,  and 
signs  of  a  vanished  population.  The  villages  stand 
at  the  edge  of  the  cultivated  land,  just  as  they  do  in 
Egypt ;  but  if  the  irrigated  flat  ground  recalls  the  val- 
ley of  the  Nile,  the  terraced  fields  reaching  far  aloft 
awake  vivid  reminiscences  of  the  mountain  country 
along  the  northwest  frontier  of  India — as,  for  instance, 
in  Hunza,  where  the  native  population  are  living  in  a 
stage  of  civilization  that  must  bear  no  little  likeness 
to  that  of  the  Peruvians  under  Inca  government. 
The  mist-nurtured  vegetation  did  not  go  far  inland, 
but  was  succeeded  by  hill-slopes  sunburned  and  ap- 
parently desert. 

As  we  went  inland  the  hills  grew  bigger  and  some- 
what bolder  in  outline.  The  valley  bottom  became 
fuller  of  trees  and  bush.  Presently  we  left  the  dreary 
roof  of  fog  behind,  and,  at  a  height  of  some  5000  feet 
above  the  sea,  where  the  health  resort  of  Matucana 
is  prettily  situated,  came  out  into  fresh  air  and  bright 
sunshine.  Now  the  valley  narrows,  patches  of  snow 
come  in  view  ahead,  knobs  of  rock  protrude  through 
debris  slopes,  and  cliffs  and  the  great  knees  of  the 
mountains  appear  aloft.  The  gradient  of  the  rails 
grows  steeper;  the  engine  pants,  and,  no  longer  fol- 

45 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

lowing  the  bed  of  the  valley,  the  line  begins  to  wind 
its  way  up  the  side,  taking  advantage  of  every  con- 
tour which  enables  a  little  altitude  to  be  gained  by 
corkscrew  curves  or  other  engineering  devices.  About 
10,000  feet  above  the  sea  comes  San  Mateo,  a  famous 
resort  for  consumptives.  And  now  the  first  symptoms 
of  mountain  sickness  —  sorocche,  as  they  call  it  in 
Peru* — began  to  be  experienced  by  my  fellow-travellers. 
Most  of  them  had  brought  some  pet  remedy,  something 
to  sip  or  something  to  smell,  but  I  could  not  perceive 
that  these  nostrums  were  any  more  effectual  than 
those  patronized  by  Channel  passengers  as  remedies 
for  sea-sickness.  One  had  only  to  look  around  the  car 
to  see  how  rapidly  the  complaint  was  invading  the 
company.  A  great  silence  fell  upon  all.  People 
crouched  themselves  into  strange  positions.  They 
wrapped  up  their  heads  in  shawls,  or  otherwise  en- 
deavored to  find  relief  from  their  unwonted  sensa- 
tions. At  first  those  who  were  less  affected  over- 
whelmed their  companions  with  fruitless  advice,  but 
gradually  the  advisers  themselves  succumbed,  and 
before  long  uncanny  sounds  were  heard  from  all  parts 
of  the  train. 

The  ascent  became  steeper.  There  were  several 
zigzags,  at  each  of  which  the  position  of  the  engine 
had  to  be  changed  from  one  end  of  the  train  to  the 
other;  and  there  were  corkscrew  tunnels  and  spider- 
legged  bridges  over  narrow  ravines,  curves  up  side- 
valleys,  and  circumventings  around  protruding  bosses 
— in  fact,   every  ingenious   contrivance  for   getting 

*  It  is  commonly  called  soroche,  but  I  am  told  the  correct  Indian 
word  is  soroc-che. 

46 


ON    THE    OROYA    RAILROAD 


TERRACED    HILL-SIDE 


PANAMA    TO    LIMA 

up  hill  by  a  steady  grade  of  4  in  lOO.  The  higher 
we  rose  the  brighter  was  the  sunshine  and  the  fresher 
the  air.  Now  and  again  the  train  was  halted,  that 
rocks  fallen  on  the  line  might  be  cleared  out  of  the 
way,  such  little  accidents  being  of  continual  occur- 
rence. At  Chicla  (12,215  ^^^^)  ^he  valley  opens  and 
becomes  for  a  while  more  level.  At  last  we  were  above 
the  highest  of  the  terraced  fields,  where  grazing- 
grounds  take  the  place  of  former  cultivation. 

By  the  time  we  reached  Casapalca  (13,606  feet),  I 
was  distinctly  conscious  that  we  were  no  longer  down 
at  sea-level.  A  slight  dizziness  came  over  me,  I  felt 
a  tension  across  the  crown  of  the  head,  a  disagreeable 
excitement,  a  tingling  in  the  soles  of  the  feet  as  though 
they  were  in  contact  with  velvet,  and  I  walked  with 
an  uncertain  step.  But  all  these  symptoms  were  mild 
enough  not  to  prevent  my  enjoyment  of  the  journey. 

We  now  passed  great  caravans  of  llamas,  the  first  I 
had  seen.  They  were  engaged  in  carrying  ore  to  the 
smelting-works  of  Casapalca.  Beyond  the  grassy 
valley  a  small  glacier  -  covered  peak  came  in  sight 
ahead,  and  soon  we  passed  by  rocks  evidently 
smoothed  in  ancient  days  by  glacier  ice.  Patches  of 
snow  were  lying  beside  the  line  in  the  shadows;  a 
hard  frost  chilled  us  to  the  marrow  of  the  bones.  I 
cannot  say  that  I  felt  regret  when  we  entered  the  sum- 
mit tunnel  and  knew  that  we  had  reached  the  up- 
ward limit  of  our  way.  At  the  far  end  of  the  tunnel 
we  came  out  again  into  sunshine,  and  the  snow  range 
of  the  inner  Cordillera  smote  upon  our  eyes  in  all 
its  silver  splendor,  while  a  beautiful  glacier-covered 
mountain  rose  close  at  hand. 

47 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Mr.  Ellis,  the  Permanent  Way  Inspector  of  the 
line,  was  awaiting  me  with  a  hand-car,  composed  of 
four  wheels,  a  platform,  a  seat,  and  a  brake.  As 
soon  as  the  train  had  started  down  eastward  the  hand- 
car was  set  on  the  lines  to  run  us  back  to  Lima.  The 
air  was  so  bitterly  cold  that  I  was  glad  enough  to 
wrap  myself  in  two  thick  ponchos  provided  by  the 
foresight  of  Mr.  Ellis.  Gravitation  was  our  engine; 
it  gripped  us  in  the  midnight  darkness  of  the  tunnel, 
wiiere,  sightless,  we  felt  the  ground  as  it  were  sliding 
out  beneath  us.  The  wheels  whirred.  There  was 
the  sense  though  not  the  aspect  of  motion  till  the 
tunnel's  eye  came  in  view  ahead,  a  mere  speck  of  light 
revealing  stalactite  icicles  on  walls  and  roof.  Larger 
and  brighter  it  grew;  like  a  bomb  from  a  mortar  we 
burst  forth  into  day.  Down  we  went — down  and 
down.  The  kilometre  posts  flew  by  like  a  railing. 
We  were  swung  around  corners,  and  plunged  into 
and  out  of  the  night  of  tunnels.  These,  when  curved, 
as  they  frequently  were,  seemed  to  screw  about  us  with 
a  motion  of  their  own  Faster  and  faster  we  went; 
the  landscape  shot  up  on  either  hand.  Some  llamas 
strayed  on  the  track,  and  we  missed  them  by  the  breadth 
of  a  fleece.  We  dashed  along  the  margin  of  giddy 
precipices  and  over  unpaved  bridges,  through  which 
one  looked  down  into  giddy  depths.  Bang !  went  the 
wheels  against  a  stone  fallen  upon  the  rail.  The  car 
was  flung  into  the  air,  but  fell  back  safely  upon  the 
track.  Mr.  Ellis  did  not  notice  so  trifling  an  occur- 
rence, but  I  did,  and  have  recalled  it  since  with  inward 
shuddering.  At  the  V's  we  had  to  dismount,  turn 
over  the  points,  and  then  proceed  in  the  opposite  di- 

48 


PANAMA    TO    LIMA 

rection.  If  we  had  overshot  the  mark  we  should 
have  leaped  off  the  point  of  the  line  and  flown  down 
the  precipice.  Such  an  accident  once  happened,  in 
days  of  revolution,  to  a  trainful  of  soldiers.  Some 
engineer,  unaccustomed  to  the  line,  was  told  off  to 
drive  the  train.  He  put  it  in  motion  without  proper- 
ly applying  the  brake.  It  rushed  down  with  fright- 
ful velocity,  and  was  almost  immediately  beyond 
control.  The  passengers  realized  their  approaching 
fate,  and  raised  a  wild  shout  of  terror  as  the  train 
dashed  over  the  point  of  the  V  and  was  smashed  to 
atoms  two  thousand  feet  below.  The  handle  of  the 
brake  was  found  flung  across  to  the  other  side  of  the 
valley  with  a  human  arm  still  grasping  it. 

The  changes  of  vegetation  at  different  levels,  slowly 
climbed  through  in  the  ascent,  were  much  more  con- 
spicuous in  the  rapidity  of  our  downward  passage. 
The  snow-patches  and  the  green  uplands  were  swiftly 
left  behind.  We  passed  through  a  belt  of  blue  blos- 
soms like  lupines,  and  then  a  belt  of  yellow.  The 
evening  shadow  climbed  the  hill.  As  we  came  down 
into  the  narrow  gorges  a  roof  of  pink  cloud  hung  over- 
head. We  saw  it  in  the  intervals  between  tunnel 
and  tunnel,  the  effect  being  specially  fine  at  a  place 
well  named  Infernillo,  where  a  spider-like  bridge, 
hung  across  from  one  vertical  cliff  to  another,  unites 
two  corkscrew  tunnels.  The  world  was  turning 
faster  against  us  than  we  were  rushing  west.  The 
brief  twilight  was  soon  over  and  solid  night  came 
on.  Then  the  romance  of  this  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles'  switchback  ride  began,  and  fancy  was  turned 
free  to  dignify  our  flight  with  imaginary  terrors. 
D  49 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

There  was  no  moon,  but  Jupiter  and  Venus,  in  close 
conjunction  just  over  the  edge  of  the  black  hill,  were 
bright  enough  to  cast  a  shadow.  The  Southern  Cross 
was  now  and  then  visible  ahead.  The  Milky  Way 
shone  brighter  than  I  ever  remember  it.  Meteors 
darted  across  the  sky,  and  the  hill-tops  reflected  flash- 
es of  summer  lightning.  Now  and  again  we  passed 
the  house  of  some  railroad  employe,  where  a  light 
shone  and  dogs  rushed  barking  forth;  but  we  hurried 
on  unceasingly  down  and  down,  rejoicing  in  the  furious 
flight.  At  Matucana  the  night  was  spent  in  a  reason- 
ably comfortable  inn.  Next  morning  the  descent  was 
continued,  but  the  gradient  and  our  consequent  speed 
were  less.  The  only  remaining  excitement  was  caused 
by  the  knowledge  that  a  train  was  coming  up  in  the 
opposite  direction,  travelling  at  a  pace  of  twenty  miles 
an  hour.  The  quick  twists  and  turns  of  the  line  ren- 
dered it  impossible  for  us  to  see  far  ahead,  and  we  might 
easily  run  into  it  if  great  care  were  not  taken.  We 
waited  long  in  one  or  two  sidings,  hoping  the  train 
would  pass.  Finally,  deciding  to  trust  to  luck,  we 
ran  down  to  a  station  where  the  missing  train  was 
drawn  up  at  the  platform,  a  solid  hour  and  a  half  be- 
hind its  time.  The  sun  was  hot  through  all  this  part 
of  the  descent,  but  on  coming  under  the  shadow  of  the 
coast  cloud  we  were  glad  enough  to  put  our  ponchos 
on  for  the  run  into  Lima. 


CHAPTER  V 
LIMA  TO  LAKE  TITICACA 

TWO  days  later  I  was  on  board  ship  again,  sail- 
ing away  southward  over  the  calm  ocean. 
There  were  three  more  ports  to  stop  at,  each 
as  uninteresting  as  those  that  had  gone  before;  and 
there  were  more  guano  islands  to  pass.  The  coast 
remained  as  dull  as  ever  in  the  thick  air  and  gloomy 
sky.  Off  Pisco,  where  the  cheap  spirits  come  from,  a 
countless  number  of  pelicans,  cormorants,  and  other 
birds  were  flying  or  floating  over  a  great  shoal  of  fish. 
It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  large  pelicans  dropping 
into  the  sea  from  a  great  height,  with  their  curious 
sidelong  dip,  and  always  coming  up  with  a  fish  in 
their  ungainly  beaks.  Picture  the  long,  dark,  fore- 
shortened mass  of  birds  on  the  splashing  water,  the 
similar  cloud  a  hundred  feet  or  so  above  in  the  air; 
at  one  end  of  this  a  cascade  of  birds  falling  and  diving 
with  a  great  splash;  at  the  other  end  the  birds  who 
had  swallowed  their  catches  rising  again  into  the  air 
and  flying  forward  till  they  gained  the  front  rank 
and  dived  again,  thus  producing  an  elongated  oval 
which  seemed  to  roll  forward  over  the  sea.  The 
noise  of  crying  and  splashing  could  be  heard  from 
a  great  distance.  Near  at  hand,  the  air  was 
simply  black  with  the  profusion  of  bird-life.     The 

51 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

divers  and  cormorants  swam  about  on  the  surface 
and  took  ample  toll  on  their  own  account.  Such  a 
sight  amply  sufficed  to  account  for  the  guano  islands. 

On  the  21  st  of  August,  just  thirty-nine  days  from 
London,  I  was  awakened  at  an  early  hour  with  the 
welcome  information  that  we  were  approaching  Mol- 
lendo.  Kind  friends  boarded  the  ship  to  receive  me 
when  she  cast  anchor.  Our  baggage  was  dropped 
into  one  barge,  myself  into  another,  and  we  rowed 
away  for  shore.  Fortunately  the  sea  was  reasonably 
calm;  not  that  storms  are  frequent  down  this  coast, 
but  there  is  often  a  heavy  swell,  causing  an  immense 
surf  to  break  upon  the  shore.  At  no  time  is  landing 
an  easy  matter  at  MoUendo,  for  there  is  always  a 
considerable  surf,  but  the  actual  landing-place  is 
protected  by  a  reef  of  rocks  very  similar  to  that  pro- 
tecting the  shore  at  Beyrout,  on  the  Syrian  coast. 
The  boat  was  rowed  through  a  narrow  opening  in 
the  reef,  the  great  white  breakers  foaming  close  on 
either  hand.  Though  the  rowers  evidently  knew 
their  business,  an  inveterate  landsman  like  myself 
does  not  pass  such  a  place  without  experiencing  some 
emotion.  Inside  the  reef  the  water  was,  of  course, 
calmer,  but  the  swell  penetrated  there;  and  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  waves  was  such  that,  after  coming 
close  to  the  landing-place,  we  were  more  than  half  an 
hour  before  the  opportunity  came  for  jumping  ashore. 
I  landed  breathlessly  almost  in  the  arms  of  the  mayor  of 
the  little  town,  who  officially  greeted  me  with  a  welcome 
to  Peru,  and  a  w^arm  expression  of  good  wishes  for  the 
success  of  my  expedition  into  the  Bolivian  mountains. 

Mollendo  is  one  of  the  cleanest  towns  I  saw  any- 

52 


LIMA    TO    LAKE    TITICACA 

where  in  South  America.  This  is  due  to  the  energy 
of  the  local  board,  elected  by  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  place  irrespective  of  nationality.  Mollendo  is 
thus  very  healthy,  and  serves  as  a  sanitarium  for 
Arequipa  and  La  Paz.  Mr.  V.  H.  McCord,  the  man- 
ager of  the  railway,  took  me  at  once  under  his  wing, 
and  himself  accompanied  me  by  the  train  when  he 
had  finished  breakfast.  Instead  of  striking  straight 
inland,  the  rails  follow  the  coast  for  thirteen  miles, 
along  a  sandy  flat,  where  the  marks  left  by  the  great 
earthquake  wave  of  1868  are  still  clearly  visible.  Turn- 
ing up  a  valley,  we  began  to  ascend  over  a  sloping 
desert,  which  irrigation  would  fertilize  if  only  there 
were  water  to  be  had.  The  road  winds  about  and 
gains  altitude  without  need  for  big  cuttings,  tunnels, 
or  bridges.  In  fact,  if  I  remember  right,  there  is  only 
one  very  short  tunnel,  and  one,  or,  at  the  utmost,  two 
bridges  on  the  whole  length  of  the  line  from  the  sea 
right  up  to  Lake  Titicaca. 

At  a  certain  level,  approximately  the  same,  I  sup- 
pose, as  that  where  I  observed  the  same  phenomenon 
behind  Lima,  comes  the  belt  where  mists  are  frequent, 
and  where,  accordingly,  at  this  time  of  year  some 
vegetation  can  grow.  The  slopes  were  pleasantly 
green,  and  there  was  here  and  there  a  fragrant  white 
flower  with  strong  perfume  like  a  tuberose.  Here 
in  the  damp  season  cattle  are  fattened  in  large  num- 
bers for  the  Iquique  market.  The  fertile  Tambo 
Valley  came  into  sight,  below  to  the  south,  with  a  fine 
view  of  hills  at  the  head  of  it,  piling  themselves  up 
and  up  farther  inland,  the  buttresses  of  the  continent. 
Looking  back  in  the  other  direction,  the  surf-edged 

53 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

sea  was  still  visible.  The  view  marvellously  devel- 
oped as  we  rose  above  the  undulating  green  fore- 
ground to  a  crinkled  blue,  purple,  and  yellow  desert, 
that  stretched  away  down  on  the  one  hand  to  the 
ocean,  and  up  on  the  other  to  the  high  mountains, 
where  the  great  volcano  Misti  (18,650  feet,  railway 
survey)  came  in  sight. 

A  little  over  three  thousand  feet  above  sea-level 
we  emerged  on  an  almost  flat  pampa  that  seemed  to 
cry  aloud  for  irrigation.  There  does,  in  fact,  exist  a 
perennial  stream  which  might  be  turned  on  to  it  by 
a  short  tunnel;  but  such  is  the  uncertainty  of  titles 
to  land  in  this  country  that  no  capitalist  would  be 
rash  enough  to  venture  his  money  in  the  enterprise. 
The  green  belt  was  left  behind,  and  the  rippled  white 
desert  stretched  aroimd,  with  black  hills  rising  from 
it — the  first  specimen  of  the  volcanic  mountain  land- 
scape of  which  I  was  afterwards  to  see  so  much.  A 
larger  desert  pampa  followed,  higher  up,  flooded  by 
great  lakes  of  mirage ;  and  here  came  into  view,  away 
to  the  northward,  the  great  mountain  whose  true 
name  is  Ampato,  but  known  at  Arequipa  as  Coro- 
puna.  Its  altitude,  as  measured  by  the  railroad  sur- 
veyors, is  22,800  feet.  I  never  saw  it  save  from  a  great 
distance,  but  the  enormous  glaciers  that  flow  down 
and  envelop  all  sides  of  its  dome-like  mass  prove  it  to 
be  a  peak  of  great  height.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  an  accurate  measurement  found  it  to  be  higher 
than  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Argentine  Andes.  Misti 
and  its  larger  neighbor,  Chachani,*  were  full  in  view 

♦Nineteen  thousand  feet  (railroad  survey).  The  astronomers  at 
Arequipa  state  that  this  peak  is  probably  about  20,000  feet  high. 

54 


LIMA    TO    LAKE    TITICACA 

ahead,  their  summits  crowned  with  considerable  ac- 
cumulations of  winter  snow. 

The  desert  was  now  dotted  all  over  with  heaps  of 
sand,  sel  [-piled  on  a  crescent-shaped  base,  the  con- 
vex side  of  the  crescent  facing  the  prevalent  wind. 
These  heaps  of  sand  slowly  march  across  the  plain 
by  the  simple  process  of  the  wind  blowing  the  sand 
up  the  outer  slope  of  the  heap  to  the  top,  whence  it 
falls  down  the  inner  face.  When  one  of  the  sand- 
heaps  reaches  the  edge  of  the  railway  line,  it  has  to 
be  dumped  over  on  to  the  other  side  by  a  gang  of  nav- 
vies. There  it  reforms  its  crescent  shape  and  pro- 
ceeds upon  its  slow  journey.  The  crescents  are  of 
various  sizes,  averaging  perhaps  some  twenty-five 
yards  in  width.  Above  the  fields  of  sand-heaps,  at 
an  elevation  of  5000  feet,  the  railway  enters  a  region 
of  mounded  stony  hills,  where  it  winds  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  deep-lying  can3'on  of  a  river  whose  waters  fer- 
tilize the  oasis  of  Arequipa. 

Descending  to  the  river,  we  soon  ran  into  Arequipa 
station,  as  the  lowering  sun  picked  out,  with  blue 
shadows  and  ruddy  lights,  the  fine  ridges  and  gullies 
that  seam  the  Misti's  graceful  cone.  McCord  hos- 
pitably put  me  up  in  the  station-house.  There  were 
several  bullet-marks  in  the  w^alls  of  my  room,  scars 
of  the  last  revolution.  The  sofa  in  the  sitting-room 
had  a  tragic  interest,  for  imder  it  an  unpopular  ojBficer 
was  run  to  earth  and  shot  by  the  revolutionaries. 
As  I  was  unpacking  my  things  a  smart  shock  of  earth- 
quake occurred,  causing  the  place  to  rattle  and  quiver 
as  though  a  heavy  freight-train  were  passing.  In 
Arequipa  no  one  pays  much  attention  to  earthquakes, 

55 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

for  they  are  of  daily  occurrence  and  the  houses  of 
the  town  are  specially  built  to  resist  them. 

The  four  days  I  was  compelled  to  wait  in  Arequipa 
for  the  weekly  train  that  goes  up  to  Lake  Titicaca 
were  a  pleasant  interlude.  The  climate  of  Arequipa 
is  exceedingly  treacherous  for  a  new-comer.  The 
place  is  7550  feet  above  sea-level;  the  nights,  there- 
fore, at  this  season  of  the  year,  are  bitterly  cold,  though 
by  day  the  sun  has  great  power.  It  is  easy  to  take 
a  violent  chill,  and  pneumonia  is  a  very  common  and 
fatal  disease. 

Had  I  not  been  occupied  with  much  unavoidable 
business,  it  would  have  been  pleasant  and  not  dif- 
ficult to  have  made  the  ascent  either  of  Misti  or  of 
Chachani.  Misti  is  very  easy  to  climb;  mules  can 
go  to  the  summit,  where  stands  a  small  meteorolog- 
ical observatory  equipped  with  self  -  recording  in- 
struments, a  dependence  of  the  Harvard  College  As- 
tronomical Observatory  at  Arequipa.  Every  fort- 
night a  man  goes  up  to  bring  down  the  observations 
and  set  the  instruments.  Chachani  has  likewise 
been  ascended.  Mr.  Wagner,  of  the  Cailloma  Mine, 
whom  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  at  the  Are- 
quipa Club,  informed  me  that  he  found  among  the 
old  papers  at  the  mine  one  dating  from  the  time  of 
the  Spaniards,  w^hich  stated  that  the  summit  of  Cha- 
chani was  the  burial-place  of  an  Inca.  A  plan  of 
the  tomb  was  appended,  with  a  point  marked  on  it 
indicating  the  position  of  treasure.  After  repeated 
attempts,  Mr.  Wagner  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  from  the  north,  and  did, 
in  fact,  find  the  remains  of  the  building.     He  took 

56 


LIMA   TO    LAKE    TITICACA 

some  native  workmen  up  with  him  and  made  exca- 
vations on  three  different  days.  Portions  of  the 
skeleton  of  a  woman  were  revealed,  and  some  wood- 
en cups  and  spoons,  and  fragments  of  pots.  The 
old  plan  proved  to  be  correct  in  its  main  outlines, 
and  the  point  indicated  for  the  treasure  was  identi- 
fied without  difficulty;  but  it  was  evident  that  a  pre- 
vious treasure-seeker  had  been  there,  for  the  grave 
had  been  disturbed,  and  anything  of  value  it  ever 
contained  had  no  doubt  been  rifled  long  ago.  He 
told  me  that  the  pavement  and  walls  of  the  grave 
were  of  granite,  a  rock  which  is  found  near  the  base 
of  the  mountain  below  the  volcanic  superstructure. 

To  a  new-comer  from  Europe  the  town  of  Arequipa 
is  very  interesting.  It  arouses  vStrange  reminiscences 
of  the  Old  World,  with  a  novel  touch  added  by  the 
craftsmanship  of  the  local  Indians.  A  group  of  crafts- 
men, however  minutely  directed  by  a  foreign  architect, 
will  inevitably  leave  traces  of  their  own  character 
upon  their  work.  Thus,  in  the  chief  streets  of  the 
town,  the  one-storied  facades  of  the  thick  tufa- walled 
houses  are  designed  with  pilasters,  cornices,  and  oth- 
er architectural  members  of  classical  or  renaissance 
tradition;  while  the  sculptured  details,  sometimes 
very  rich  in  effect,  are  rough  and  almost  barbaric 
in  style.  The  by-streets  are,  of  course,  dirty  and 
pervaded  by  most  unpleasant  odors.  At  night  the 
whole  place  is  loud  with  the  shouts  of  intoxicated 
men  and  the  voices  of  barking  dogs,  like  the  jackals  of 
the  East.  The  passer-by  obtains  brief  glimpses  into 
slummy  drinking-dens  and  dimly  lit  places  of  amuse- 
ment,  where  a  low  population  of  half-breeds  takes 

57 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

such  recreation  as  it  is  likely  to  desire.  To  walk 
at  night  to  one's  lodgings,  as  I  often  did,  was  a  suffi- 
ciently unpleasant  experience,  unless  one  adhered  to 
the  main  street. 

In  the  midst  of  the  city  is  a  great  cathedral,  shaken 
down  more  or  less  frequently  by  earthquakes,  and 
now  in  process  of  rebuilding  by  local  talent.  It  is 
large,  and  not  architecturally  unimpressive,  though 
in  a  wild  fashion  of  its  own.  The  towers  are  almost 
riotous  in  design,  as  indeed  are  old  Spanish- American 
church-towers  generally,  yet  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  they  have  a  certain  splendor  and  dignity.  The 
interior  of  the  cathedral  is  whitewashed  and  spacious, 
with  some  rude  but  effective  carving  in  suitable  posi- 
tions. High  mass  was  going  on  when  I  entered. 
For  orchestra  there  was  a  cracked  piano,  jerkily 
erupting  airs  from  ''La  Fille  de  Madame  Angot.'' 
One  boy  and  one  man,  standing  together  at  the  ex- 
treme west  end  of  the  church  and  shouting  all  they 
knew  how,  were  the  whole  choir.  Workmen  were 
sawing  wood  and  hammering  nails  in  the  aisle  while 
the  service  proceeded,  and  incense  was  ascending 
in  clouds  by  the  altar. 

I  likewise  visited  the  Jesuits'  church,  the  interior 
of  which  must  have  been  striking  when  there  were 
six  side-chapels,  with  great  altar-pieces  reaching  to 
the  vaulting,  all  carved,  painted,  and  gilded  in  the 
most  gorgeous  Spanish  style,  with  figures  in  niches, 
painted,  enamelled,  and  dressed  up  to  life,  some  of 
more  than  average  excellence.  Unfortunately,  these 
fine  decorations  are  now  considered  old-fashioned, 
and  three  of  them  have  been  removed,  though  some 

58 


AREQUIPA   PLAZA 


AREQUIPA    CATHEDRAL   TOWERS 


LIMA    TO    LAKE    TITICACA 

one  told  me  that  they  were  not  destroyed  but  only 
transferred  to  a  country  church,  the  name  of  which 
I  did  not  learn.  My  presence  was  evidently  obnox- 
ious to  the  verger.  He  pursued  me  with  scowlings 
and  mutterings,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  me 
on  my  departure,  gringos  being  almost  as  obnoxious 
to  the  ignorant  Catholic  lower  orders  of  Peru  and 
Bolivia  as  Christians  are  to  fanatical  Mohammedans. 

One  afternoon  I  had  the  loan  of  a  slight,  spirited 
pacing  pony  of  charming  disposition.  In  company 
with  a  kind  friend  I  rode  out  to  visit  the  observatory. 
The  ponies  were  wonderfully  sure-footed,  as  indeed 
was  necessary,  for  the  tracks  they  had  to  travel  over 
were  of  the  most  rugged  description.  But  the  ride 
was  delightful.  It  led  through  the  enchanting  semi- 
Oriental  suburbs  of  the  town  and  by  positions  com- 
manding beautiful  views.  In  aspect  Arequipa,  as 
one  looked  down  from  a  distance  upon  its  white  stone 
walls,  its  many  cupolas,  and  its  all-pervading  trees, 
strongly  resembled  an  Eastern  city.  At  the  ob- 
servatory I  was  most  hospitably  received,  and  all 
doors  were  opened  to  me.  Mr.  Clymer  and  his  fel- 
low-observer showed  me  their  fine  instruments.  I 
was,  of  course,  especially  interested  in  the  admirable 
equipment  for  celestial  photography,  for  which  this 
observatory  is  deservedly  famed.  They  also  de- 
scribed to  me  the  ascent  of  Mount  Misti,  which  both 
of  them  had  made  on  more  than  one  occasion,  and 
they  gave  me,  among  other  beautiful  photographs 
taken  from  the  summit,  the  one  which  I  have  the  pleas- 
ure, with  permission,  to  publish  here. 

At  seven  in  the  morning  of  the  25th  of  August, 

59 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  train  at  last  started  which  was  to  carry  us  to  the 
shores  of  Lake  Titicaca.  A  railway  official  came 
down  to  see  me  off  and  cast  an  eye  over  the  train. 
He  detected  a  dirty  friar  who  had  filled  the  place  of 
two  travellers  with  his  baggage.  ''Take  it  out  and 
get  it  registered/'  he  said.  The  man  protested,  at 
first  truculently,  then  grovellingly.  ''Out  you  go, 
then,  baggage  and  all.  It's  too  bad,''  he  said  to  me; 
"  in  this  priest-ridden  country  we  have  to  carry  priests 
for  half-price,  and  these  barefoot  Johnnies  for  nothing, 
and  the  barefooters  give  more  trouble  than  any  other 
passengers.  They  are  always  going  up  and  down 
as  though  they  were  the  busiest  people — a  mean,. 
filthy,  idle  lot.'"' 

The  sun  was  3^et  low;  a  smoke-cloud  hanging  over 
Arequipa  indicated  that  the  town  had  breakfasted. 
Misti  and  Chachani,  on  either  hand,  seemed  to  swim 
in  the  glowing  air.  Green  fields  spread  wide  on  either 
bank  of  the  river,  till  the  desert  resumed  its  sway, 
and  cactus  and  spare  brown  plants  were  all  the  vege- 
tation that  remained  in  sight.  The  soil  consisted 
of  volcanic  ejections  of  gray  and  pink  mud,  with  large, 
angular  rocks  embedded.  The  whole  area  through 
which  we  were  passing  was  cut  up  into  small  hills 
and  shallow,  winding  valleys,  all  equally  desert. 
Clouds  now  settled  heavily  on  the  high  mountains, 
and  all  the  view  we  had  was  backward  over  the  sea- 
like pampa.  About  thirteen  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level  came  a  land  of  tussocky  grass,  supporting 
sheep,  llamas,  and  a  few  horses.  Now  the  car  began 
to  smell  of  some  nasty  camphorated  drug  that  the 
passengers  were  sniffing  as  a  remedy  for  mountain. 

60 


LIMA   TO    LAKE    TITICACA 

sickness.  Silence  had  long  ago  descended  upon  the 
people;  those  who  could  disposed  themselves  to  slum- 
ber. Even  the  two  dirty  friars  stopped  the  gossip 
with  which  they  had  entertained  each  other  all  the 
way,  and  only  a  babe  gave  vent  to  its  feelings  in 
ceaseless  yells  and  screams.  Presently  another  baby 
began  to  howl  in  chorus.  The  higher  we  got  the  more 
undulating  and  uninteresting  was  the  scenery  of 
the  bleak  and  bare  region.  A  fog  descended  and 
blotted  out  all  view.  On  the  top  level  the  only  growths 
were  the  moss-heaps  called  yareta,  a  resinous  growth 
largely  used  for  fuel,  and  grass  tussocks  growing 
round  the  edges  of  the  moss-heaps.  Patches  of  snow 
were  lying  about,  dimly  seen  through  the  mists.  Droves 
of  llamas,  great  flocks  of  sheep,  and  a  few  cattle 
came  vaguely  into  sight  and  faded  away.  Once  or 
twice  we  saw  wild  vicufias,  so  well  accustomed  to  the 
passing  of  trains  as  to  take  no  heed. 

At  half -past  two  we  were  on  top  of  the  pass  (14,666 
feet),  and  I  was  pleased  to  find  that  on  this  occasion 
I  experienced  none  of  the  disagreeable  sensations 
that  assailed  me  on  the  Oroya  railroad  a  few  days 
before.  There  was  no  view  either  from  the  pass  or 
during  the  first  part  of  the  descent,  which  was  made 
in  fog  and  driving  snow  over  an  immense  moor.  Two 
lakes  came  by,  in  a  wild,  abandoned-looking  region, 
admirably  suited  to  be  a  home  for  Thebaid  hermits, 
but  quite  wasted  on  a  worldly  age.  Plenty  of  ducks, 
of  three  different  kinds,  frequent  the  waters.  At 
Mara  villas  (13,000  feet)  snow  gave  place  to  rain.  A 
ranch  on  one  side  of  the  line  and  smelting-works  on 
the  other  seemed  forbidding  abodes  in  the  raw  day. 

61 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Down  we  went  by  steady  incline.  At  the  cold  hour 
of  sunset  we  came  out  on  flat  ground,  occupied  by 
barley-fields,  but  once  covered  by  the  waters  of  Lake 
Titicaca.  Abandoned  terraced  fields  ringed  the  hill- 
sides all  about,  but  darkness  swallowed  them  up,  and 
when  we  reached  the  port  of  Puno  (12,540  feet)  and 
went  on  board  the  little  steamer  Coya,  the  cold  night 
had  already  come  on. 


CHAPTER  VI 
LAKE  TITICACA  TO  LA  PAZ 

THE  Scotch  engineer  made  me  comfortable, 
and  in  conversation  with  him  the  time  passed 
pleasantly.  He  told  me  of  the  troubles  they 
had  had  with  the  boats,  which  were  brought  up  in 
sections  years  ago  and  had  to  be  put  together  on 
the  shore.  Maintenance  and  repair  must  be  accom- 
plished without  any  of  the  usual  facilities,  but  such 
is  the  energy  and  intelligence  of  the  European  engi- 
neering staff  that  everything  goes  well.  When  traf- 
fic increased,  and  a  larger  boat  was  needed,  one  of 
the  steamers  was  actually  hauled  up  on  the  shore  of 
the  lake,  cut  in  half  then  and  there,  and  a  great  ad- 
dition made  to  its  length  by  adding  a  new  piece  in 
the  middle.  Of  course,  in  times  of  revolution  it  is 
the  aim  of  both  parties  to  obtain  possession  of  these 
steamers  at  the  earliest  moment,  and  many  an  excit- 
ing adventure  has  happened  upon  them.  Bullet- 
marks  can  be  traced  all  over  them,  and  they  have 
been  the  scene  of  bloody  combats.  "Many's  the 
man  Tve  seen  shot  on  this  deck,''  said  my  friend. 
I  wish  I  might  here  retell  some  of  the  tales  he  told 
me. 

When   morning   came  the  coldness   of  the    night 
was  proved  by  the  ring  of  ice  surrounding  the  shore. 

63 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

It  was  the  opening  of  a  calm  and  brilliant  day,  as 
good  fortune  had  it,  for  the  waters  of  Titicaca  are 
usually  stirred  to  tumult  by  contending  winds  that 
rush  down  the  surrounding  hills  without  warning. 
Thus  the  steamer  passengers  usually  suffer  terribly 
from  a  combination  of  sea  and  mountain  sickness  of 
so  overpowering  a  character  that  even  the  best  sail- 
ors seldom  escape;  and  the  stokers  and  crew,  who 
should  be  habituated,  if  habituation  were  possible, 
are  by  no  means  always  free  from  the  complaint. 

Of  all  lakes  in  the  world  this  one,  the  largest  in  South 
America,  named  Titicaca*  in  the  ancient  language 
of  the  country,  is  in  many  respects  the  most  remark- 
able. Its  altitude,  according  to  the  railway  survey, 
is  12,516  feet  above  sea-level.  In  the  rainy  season  it 
rises  about  five  feet  higher.  Its  area  is  over  three 
thousand  square  miles,  half  the  size  of  Lake  Ontario, 
fourteen  times  the  size  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  It  is 
over  one  hundred  miles  in  length,  and  averages  thirty 
miles  in  width.  Twenty  streams  empty  into  it.  The 
Rio  Desaguadero  very  slowly  flows  out  to  Lake  Poopo, 
fifty  leagues  away  to  the  southeast,  from  which  there 
is  no  surface  exit.  The  level  of  the  surface  of  both 
lakes  has  sunk  within  the  historic  period.  Three 
hundred  years  ago  the  margin  of  Titicaca  was  near 
the  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  which  now  lie  over  six  miles 
from  the  water's  edge.     At  an  earlier  date,  when  the 

*  Titi  karka,  Titi  ccacka,  Titi  ccan-na  are  early  spellings  of  the 
name  given  in  Padre  Baltasar  de  Salas's  MS.,  Historia  de  Copa- 
cabana  (1618-1625),  printed  in  the  La  Paz  Review,  La  Brisa,  Vol. 
I.,  No.  2  (October  31,  1898).  Titi!  Cacaf  is  commonly  said  to  have 
been  a  war-cry. 

64 


OF  THE 

UN/VERsiTY 

^  OF 


LAKE    TITICACA    TO    LA    PAZ 

temple  was  built,  it  stood  upon  an  island.  At  an 
earlier  but  still  recent  geological  epoch  the  southern 
limit  of  the  great  inland  sea  was  in  about  latitude 

2f  S. 

Before  the  boat  started  I  made  short  excursions 
along  the  shore  to  investigate  the  native  boats  called 
balsas.  They  are  made  of  the  great  Titicaca  rush, 
very  neatly  bound  together,  just  as  they  used  to  be 
made  in  the  days  of  the  Incas.  They  are  not,  of 
course,  very  long-lived  things,  for  when  once  the 
rushes  become  well  sodden  the  boats  are  waterlogged, 
and  have  to  be  drawn  up  on  shore  and  left  for  many 
days  or  even  weeks  to  dry  before  they  can  be  used 
again.  In  these  crazy  craft  the  Indians,  nevertheless, 
navigate  the  great  lake,  and  even  cross  it  from  side  to 
side.  There  were  plenty  of  birds  in  sight  —  gulls, 
coots,  various  ducks,  and  some  herons,  besides  smaller 
birds.  The  low  lands  and  hills  round  the  shore  were 
all  sunburned  and  sorrowful,  apparently  sparsely 
populated,  but  the  multitude  of  abandoned  terraced 
fields  now  visible  in  the  daylight  were  proof,  if  proof 
were  needed,  of  the  greater  population  that  once  dwelt 
on  this  high  plateau.  From  December  to  May,  which 
is  the  rainy  season,  the  land  is  green,  and  produces 
a  harvest  of  barley,  potatoes,  and  other  hardy  growths. 
Now  all  the  hills  were  yellowy  brown,  a  golden  frame 
for  the  blue  water. 

Our  steamer  passed  down  a  canal  cut  in  the  shal- 
lows, and  so  out  into  a  bay.  At  its  south  horn  is 
Taqueli  Island,  very  useful,  at  times  of  revolution 
or  general  election  in  Peru,  for  the  temporary  exile 
of  persons  obnoxious  to  the  party  in  power.  As 
E  65 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  steamer  rounded  the  island  and  entered  the  waters 
of  the  great  lake.  Mount  Sorata  came  into  view  eighty 
miles  away,  perfectly  clear,  apparently  rising  out  of 
the  waters  themselves.  Nothing  was  visible  but  its 
snow-covered  upper  portion,  which  shone  with  great 
brilliancy  in  the  bright  day.  To  behold  thus  plainly 
and  from  so  remote  a  distance  one  of  the  chief  goals 
of  our  expedition  was  rare  good  fortune.  It  would 
be  difficult  for  a  reader  to  imagine  the  excitement  we 
felt  as  we  gazed  upon  the  mountain  through  our  tele- 
scopes and  canvassed  the  possibility  of  an  ascent. 
All  day  long  it  was  before  us,  gradually  coming  nearer 
and  revealing  more  definitely  the  intricacies  of  its  great 
northwestern  face.  The  more  we  looked  at  it  the  more 
we  admired  the  beauty  of  its  appearance  and  the  less 
we  liked  it  as  a  mountain  to  climb.  It  is  a  very  com- 
plex mass,  with  high  snow  plateaus  below  the  snow 
areted  summit  towers,  drained  by  ice-falls  and  steep 
couloirs  cut  in  its  cliff-rimmed  base.  The  northern 
peak,  the  true  Illampu,  is  finest  in  form,  a  rock- 
walled  mass  seemingly  vertical  on  all  sides  save  where 
it  is  buttressed  by  narrow  rock  ridges.  North  of 
Mount  Sorata  the  range  drops  to  a  long,  almost  flat, 
line  of  hills  about  1 6,000  feet  in  height.  Southward 
the  range  extends  away  and  away,  a  straight  line  of 
snow  mountains  thoroughly  Alpine  in  appearance. 
Perspective  makes  them  sink  one  beyond  another 
till  Cacaaca  appears  like  a  rival  to  Sorata,  and  as  fine 
or  even  finer  in  form.  From  hour  to  hour  the  snowy 
range,  of  which  Sorata  is  the  northern  end,  revealed 
itself,  one  peak  after  another  appearing  above  the 
waters  and  gradually  joining  itself  to  its  neighbors. 

66 


LAKE    TITICACA   TO    LA    PAZ 

Far  away  to  the  north,  and  belonging  to  a  different 
mountain  system,  there  stood  another  great  peak, 
apparently  the  unmeasured  Asongati,  which  I  only 
saw  on  this  occasion.  It  had  every  appearance  of 
being  about  as  lofty  as  Mount  Sorata. 

The  mountain  system  in  Bolivia  is  rather  com- 
plicated. Hugo  Reck/"  whose  classification  has  been 
followed  very  generally,  divides  it  into  five  parts : 

1.  The  Coast  Cordillera. 

2.  The  Cordillera  de  los  Andes  or  Western  Cor- 
dillera. 

3.  The  Cordillera  Real  or  Bolivian  Andes. 

4.  Isolated  ranges  lying  between  2  and  3. 

5.  Ranges  east  of  the  Cordillera  Real. 

For  practical  purposes,  however,  it  is  best  to  di- 
vide the  whole  into  two  main  and  approximately 
parallel  ranges,  the  Western  Cordillera  and  the  Cor- 
dillera Real,  between  which  lie  lakes  Titicaca  and 
Poopo  and  the  high  plateau  or  Puna.  We  crossed 
the  Western  Cordillera  on  our  way  up  from  the  sea 
by  train ;  the  Cordillera  Real  was  now  before  us.  These 
two  ranges  are  said  to  separate  from  each  other 
in  latitude  14^  40'  S.,  where  is  the  pass  leading  over 
from  Titicaca  to  Cusco,  and  to  reunite,  or  at  least 
approximate,  about  latitude  24^  S.  Though  the 
eastern  range  in  its  whole  length  may  be  correctly 
termed  the  Cordillera  Real,  that  proud  designation 
was  undoubtedly  gained  by  the  splendid  snow -cov- 
ered stretch  which  is  terminated  to  the  north  and 
the  south  by  the  two  world-renowned  mountains  So- 

*  Hugo  Reck,  Geographie  und  Statistik  der  Republik  Bolivia.  Pe- 
termann's  Mittheilimgen,  1865.     With  map. 

67 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

rata"  and  Illimani,  sixty-four  miles  apart.  Locally  the 
snowy  part  of  the  range  is  called  Cordillera  Brava, 
but  this  designation  seems  to  be  falling  into  disuse. 

With  our  attention  concentrated  upon  the  distant 
mountains,  the  nearer  lands  and  hills  received  less 
notice  than  they  deserved,  and  it  was  with  surprise 
that  I  found  the  famous  Titicaca  Island  close  at  hand. 
We  passed  close  along  its  western  shore,  and  then 
through  the  narrow  Tiquina  strait  that  separates 
it  from  the  peninsula  of  Copacabana.  This  island  of 
Titicaca  and  its  neighbor  Coati,  the  islands  of  the  Sun 
and  of  the  Moon,  are  said  to  have  been  the  original 
home  of  the  Incas,  as  all  who  have  read  Prescott's 
Pizarro  know.  It  was  on  Titicaca  Island  that  Manco 
Capac  (Mallcu  Kcapa)  and  his  wife  Mama  Oello  Huaco 
(Mar mi  Ojllata)  arose,  the  legendary  founders  of 
Inca  civilization.  It  was  the  people  of  these  islands, 
and  possibly  of  the  neighboring  mainland,  that  grad- 
ually extended  their  power  over  the  inhabitants  of 
the  plateau.  Afterwards  sweeping  northward,  they 
founded  the  great  city  of  Cusco,  whence  their  empire 
spread  to  remote  and  now  not  definable  boundaries. 
Later  researches  have  thrown  much  doubt  upon  the 
correctness  of  this  popular  history,  f  The  ruins  of  the 
great  Inca  buildings  on  these  two  islands  were  visible 
from  the  boat,  and  as  I  passed  I  promised  myself  to 
make  a  special  pilgrimage  to  them.  But  fortune 
was  averse,  and  I  left  Bolivia  without  seeing  them 

*  This  peak  is  generally,  but  incorrectly,  called  after  its  second 
summit,  Illampu.  The  name  of  the  highest  point  is  Ancohuma  or 
Hank-uma. 

t  For  a  brief  rSsumi  of  the  results  of  modern  research,  see  A.  H. 
Keene's  Man,  Past  and  Present,  Cambridge,  1899. 

68 


LAKE    TITICACA    TO    LA    PAZ 

again.  Just  as  we  were  approaching  the  strait  which 
gives  access  to  the  inner  lake,  know^n  as  Vinamarca, 
the  sun  set,  bathing  the  snow  mountains  in  violet 
gloom  before  the  on-coming  of  the  windless  night. 
Then  the  moon  shone  bright  and  beautiful  upon  the 
waters.  At  eight  o'clock  we  anchored  off  the  Bolivian 
port  Chililaya/''  having  thus  reached  our  destination 
in  forty-four  days  from  London. 

At  an  early  hour  next  morning,  Mr.  N.  E.  Bieber, 
Managing  Director  of  the  Yani  Gold  Mine,  to  whom 
I  had  a  letter  of  introduction,  came  on  board  and 
greeted  me.  Thoroughly  au  fait  with  the  ways  of 
the  port,  he  made  arrangements  for  landing  my  goods 
and  sending  them  off  by  cart  to  La  Paz.  A  number 
of  native  Aymara  Indians  carried  the  things  ashore, 
each  man  wrapping  a  box  up  in  his  poncho,  and  sup- 
porting it  on  his  back  just  as  my  coolies  used  to  do 
in  Kashmir.  This  was  my  first  contact  with  the 
pure-breed  Indians  of  South  i\merica.  All  the  men 
were  dressed  in  the  same  fashion,  wearing  trousers 
split  down  the  back  of  the  leg  from  the  knee  down- 
ward, with  some  kind  of  loose  linen  lining  which 
flapped  about  through  the  slit;  a  European  shirt,  and 
perhaps  a  waistcoat,  covered  their  bodies,  but  their 
chief  garment  was  a  great  blanket  of  some  brilliant 
color,  such  as  crimson,  with  strips  of  green  or  yellow 
at  the  ends ;  a  hole  cut  in  the  middle  admitted  the  head, 
while  the  loose  ends  flapped  down  all  round.  A 
poncho  is  to  an  Indian  what  a  mantle  was  to  an  Irish- 
man in  the  days  of  Edmund  Spenser.     ''When  it 

*  One  hundred  and  eleven  miles  by  steamer  from  Puno. 

69 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

raineth,  it  is  his  pent-house ;  when  it  bloweth,  it  is  his 
tent;  when  it  freezeth,  it  is  his  tabernacle.  In  sum- 
mer he  can  wear  it  loose,  in  winter  he  can  wrap  it  close ; 
at  all  times  he  can  use  it,  never  heavy,  never  cum- 
bersome/' For  head-gear  the  Indians  usually  wore 
a  sort  of  close-fitting  woollen  nightcap  with  flaps 
over  the  ears,  and  over  that  a  round-crowned,  rather 
narrow-brimmed  felt  hat.  They  were  all  phenomenally 
dirty.  The  hardness  of  their  lives  and  the  severe 
climate  of  this  high  plateau  on  which  they  live  were 
manifested  by  their  deeply  furrowed,  weather-beaten 
faces,  burned  brown  by  the  sun  and  cracked  by  the 
cold  winds. 

A  so-called  tilbury,  which  had  been  telegraphed 
for  in  advance,  was  awaiting  us.  It  proved  to  be 
an  ordinary  light  American  wagon  drawn  by  four 
mules.  Like  all  the  La  Paz  tilburies,  it  was  old,  and 
inspired  little  confidence  in  its  capacity  for  holding 
together  any  length  of  time.  The  harness  was  no 
less  antique  than  the  machine,  and  was  patched  up 
with  pieces  of  cord,  and  bore  the  signs  of  many  a 
rough-and-ready  repair. 

With  much  shouting  and  cracking  of  his  whip, 
our  driver  got  his  sorry  team  in  motion,  and  off  we 
went  at  a  brisk  pace,  with  a  stray  donkey  cantering 
ahead.  Two  more  tilburies  were  starting  at  the  same 
time.  Wherever  the  road  was  wide  enough  the  drivers 
raced  against  one  another,  wildly  screaming.  Mine 
was  the  slowest  team,  and  we  were  soon  left  behind. 
That  was  my  luck  throughout  this  journey.  What- 
ever train  I  took  was  the  slowest  of  the  week.  The 
five  ocean  steamers  I  voyaged  on  were  each  and  all 

70 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF  , 

CALIFOB^^ 


LAKE    TITICACA    TO    LA    PAZ 

the  slowest  of  their  respective  Hnes.  The  road  wound 
over  some  low  mounded  hills,  and  descended  with  a 
sharp  zigzag  on  to  the  plain.  Just  at  this  point,  a 
week  before,  one  of  the  tilburies  lost  a  wheel ;  the  vehicle 
rolled  over  down  the  slope,  killing  one  of  its  occupants 
on  the  spot  and  dangerously  injuring  the  other.  The 
whole  of  our  drive  from  the  lake  to  the  edge  of  the  La 
Paz  basin  lay  along  the  high  Bolivian  plateau,  here 
called  the  Puna.  This  plateau,  lying  between  the 
coast  and  inner  Cordilleras,  stretches  southward  for 
several  hundred  miles  at  about  the  same  altitude. 
In  many  respects,  as  will  hereafter  appear,  it  reminded 
me  of  Tibet.  At  the  time  of  my  journey  it  was  held 
in  the  bonds  and  drought  of  winter,  so  that,  but  for 
the  old  furrows  of  last  year's  ploughing  and  the  brown 
stubble  visible  here  and  there,  one  would  have  imagined 
it  to  be  a  mere  desert.  One  or  two  insignificant  streams 
were  passed,  expanding  into  occasional  ponds,  the 
surfaces  of  which  were  so  stoutly  covered  with  ice  that 
they  had  to  be  broken  before  the  horses  could  drink. 
The  air  was  bitterly  cold,  and,  until  the  sun  had  climbed 
fairly  high,  we  suffered  considerably  from  chill.  At 
12,500  feet  above  sea-level  the  climate  must  always 
be  severe.  The  natives'  habit  of  wrapping  up  their 
heads  in  shawls  or  ponchos  is  easily  accounted  for. 
Pneumonia  is  the  commonest  and  most  fatal  disease 
in  the  high  parts  of  Bolivia.  Few  people  live  to  any 
great  age  there.  Even  in  the  town  of  La  Paz,  which 
lies  in  a  hollow  and  is  well  protected  from  most  winds, 
old  people  are  rare,  and  a  man  seventy  years  of  age 
is  pointed  to  as  a  phenomenon. 

When  the  small  hills  of  Chililaya  had  been  left 

71 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

behind,  the  great  mountain  range  on  our  left  became 
visible.  Mount  Sorata  being  thirty  miles  away,  rather 
behind  us,  Cacaaca  almost  as  far  ahead,  and  the 
nearest  mountain,  between  the  two,  about  twenty 
miles  off,  while  great  lUimani  was  seen  from  time  to 
time  in  the  distance,  fifty-five  miles  away.  Detached 
hills,  those  of  Pefias  and  Palcoco  in  particular,  rising 
like  islands  out  of  the  plain,  sometimes  shut  off  parts 
of  the  higher  range,  but  in  the  main  we  saw  it  through- 
out the  day  as  a  long  white  wall  rising  at  the  top  of  a 
series  of  gentle  slopes  cut  up  by  deep  valleys.  It  was  a 
beautiful  range,  but  owing  to  the  clearness  of  the  air 
seemed  very  much  closer  to  the  road,  and  therefore 
smaller  than  it  really  was.  Naturally  our  eyes  were 
riveted  on  it,  and  at  every  pause  we  directed  our  tele- 
scopes upon  the  different  peaks  and  discussed  the 
probabilities  of  ascents  and  the  routes  to  be  taken. 
The  side  of  Sorata  which  was  now  displayed  to  us 
was  evidently  a  better  side  for  attack  than  that  seen 
from  Lake  Titicaca,  and  a  great  glacier  descending 
from  the  foot  of  the  highest  peak,  in  direction  almost 
due  south,  offered  a  route  by  which  I  decided  to  at- 
tempt the  ascent  when  the  proper  time  came. 

The  road  was  a  good  enough  track,  dusty  and 
heavy,  but  fairly  level,  so  that  by  changing  horses 
every  couple  of  hours  we  were  able  to  make  a  good 
pace.  At  first  we  met  few  people,  but  after  passing 
the  points  of  junction,  first  with  the  road  from  Acha- 
cache  and  afterwards  with  that  from  Pucarani,  it  be- 
came lively  enough.  We  passed  many  small  farms, 
and  saw  larger  villages,  and  even  towns,  some  dis- 
tance away.     Almost  every  man  we  met  was  an  Indian ; 

72 


LAKE    TITICACA   TO    LA    PAZ 

they  travelled  sometimes  singly,  carrying  loads,  but 
usually  in  parties  of  half  a  dozen  or  more,  driving 
laden  caravans  of  donkeys  or  llamas,  and  sometimes 
pigs  for  the  market.  The  donkeys  were  small,  and 
bore  large  loads,  usually  sheaves  of  cebada—iha.t 
is  to  say,  barley  cut  before  it  is  ripe,  and  dried  with 
the  corn  in  the  ear.  This  is  the  principal  crop  of  the 
Puna,  and  forms  an  admirable  fodder  for  mules  and 
donkeys.  A  continual  stream  of  caravans  thus  laden 
pours  from  all  the  country  round  into  La  Paz,  and 
on  the  return  brings  back  such  small  merchandise 
as  the  villagers  consume.  The  poverty  of  the  people 
was  obvious  enough;  when  I  was  afterwards  informed 
that  the  agricultural  wage  is  only  from  about  two- 
pence to  threepence  a  day,  I  was  not  surprised. 

As  the  day  advanced  the  bright  sunshine  and  the 
crisp  air  became  most  exhilarating;  the  freshness  of 
all  the  sights  and  novelty  of  the  scene  even  awoke 
the  interest  of  Maquignaz,  who  seldom  allowed  the 
calm  of  his  indifference  to  be  disturbed  by  the  strange- 
ness of  his  surroundings.  Before  noon  white  clouds 
began  to  mount  from  the  hot  valleys  on  the  far  side 
of  the  Cordillera,  and  showed  themselves  over  the 
crest  of  the  range;  this  we  aftervv^ards  learned  to  be  a 
daily  phenomenon.  In  fine  weather  at  early  morning 
the  range  is  generally  clear,  but  long  before  sunset  great 
masses  of  clouds  that  come  up  from  the  hot,  damp 
east,  pouring  over  every  pass,  bury  the  mountains 
out  of  sight  and  often  drift  down  to  the  plain,  bringing 
occasional  thunder-storms  with  them.  In  the  months 
of  June  and  July,  I  believe,  this  eastern  cloud  does 
not  appear,  but  in  1898  it  came  regularly  throughout 

73 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

August,  September,  and  October,  gradually  increasing 
in  size  and  in  the  frequency  of  the  storms  to  which 
it  gave  rise.  In  November  and  the  succeeding  months 
it  settles  down  on  the  country  as  a  rainy  season,  lasting 
until  the  following  April  or  May. 

Thus  hour  succeeded  hour,  and  we  became  more 
and  more  thickly  enveloped  in  dust  till  there  was  no 
difference  between  the  color  of  our  faces  and  our  clothes. 
We  grew  tired  of  the  bumping,  tired  of  the  uniformity 
of  our  surroundings.  Before  the  afternoon  was  far 
advanced  the  sense  of  novelty  had  entirely  worn  away, 
and  even  I  was  feeling  bored  with  the  monotony  of 
our  movements.  To  make  matters  worse,  a  long, 
gentle,  upward  slope  reduced  our  pace  and  hid  all 
view  ahead.  When  I  least  expected  it,  the  leaders 
dipped  over  the  edge  of  the  rise,  turned  sharp  to  the  left, 
and  as  the  carriage  followed  them  we  found  ourselves, 
without  warning,  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  (called  La 
Bajada)  which  dropped  some  1600  feet  to  a  great 
basin,  that  looked  for  all  the  world  like  the  crater 
of  some  enormous  volcano — a  basin  ten  miles  or  so 
in  diameter,  with  a  valley  leading  up  from  it  towards 
beautiful  Cacaaca,  and  another  stretching  downward 
to  a  remote  distance.  Below  us,  like  a  mosaic  pave- 
ment, lay  red-roofed  La  Paz,  a  much  greater  city 
than  I  had  imagined,  while  twenty-five  miles  away 
rose  the  glorious  isolated  snowy  mass  of  Illimani. 
This  view,  wonderful  at  any  time,  produces  an  in- 
describable effect  upon  all  persons  coming  newly  to 
La  Paz,  so  suddenly  does  it  burst  upon  the  unpre- 
pared vision  of  the  traveller.  The  whole  of  this  great 
basin  and  the  ramifying  valleys  that  debouch  upon 

74 


LAKE    TITICACA    TO    LA    PAZ 

it  have  been  excavated  by  the  agency  of  water  from 
the  vast  alluvial  mass  out  of  which  the  high  Bolivian 
plateau  is  built.  A  great  inland  sea,  whereof  Lake 
Titicaca  is  but  a  small  remnant,  once  stretched  to  the 
foot  of  the  Cordillera  and  hundreds  of  miles  away 
southward  of  La  Paz.  It  was  slowly  filled  up  by  the 
denudation  of  surrounding  mountain  ranges.  Once 
or  twice  volcanic  discharges,  from  some  vent  the  posi- 
tion of  which  is  not  ascertained,  were  cast  into  the 
waters,  as  is  evident  from  the  two  or  three  bands  of 
trachytic  tuff  displayed  by  the  great  section  down 
which  I  was  now  looking.  It  is  the  immensity  of  this 
great  excavation,  which  is  visibly  in  process  of  en- 
largement at  the  present  day,  and  the  barrenness  of 
its  freshly  carved  walls,  that  impress  an  observer. 
Save  in  the  neighborhood  of  La  Paz,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  great  hollow,  where  artificial  irrigation  can  be  car- 
ried on,  there  is  hardly  a  trace  of  fertility,  except,  I 
suppose,  in  the  rainy  season.  All  the  forms  are  those 
made  by  an  apparently  torrential  flow  of  water,  which 
cuts  deep  gullies  and  eats  back  by  cirques  into  the 
cliffs,  bringing  down  landslides  and  mud  avalanches 
in  great  masses.  Yet,  except  in  the  traces  of  its  action, 
there  was  no  sign  of  water;  all  was  dry  and  baked 
and  bare. 

To  bring  a  railroad  from  Chililaya  to  the  point 
where  we  now  stood,  which  is  called  the  Alto,  would 
be  a  perfectly  easy  thing  to  do,  but  to  drop  it  down 
to  the  town  would  be  far  from  a  simple  matter.  The 
road  is  well  laid  out  in  zigzags,  down  which  the  til- 
buries are  galloped  at  a  fine  pace.  There  are  steeper 
paths  for  mules  and  donkeys,  while  llamas  still  use 

75 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  world-old  tracks  which  were  trodden  by  their  pred- 
ecessors centuries  before  the  Incas  ever  rose  from 
obscurity.  Quitting  the  carriage,  I  ran  down  the  cliff 
by  the  straightest  way  and  entered  the  outskirts  of 
the  town  alone.  They  were  not  in  any  respect  like 
European  suburbs,  nor  could  one  have  mistaken  them 
for  the  suburbs  of  an  Oriental  city.  It  was  impossible, 
however,  not  to  feel  that,  in  type,  the  surroundings  of 
the  way  were  of  great  antiquity.  There  is  a  certain 
Spanish  varnish  on  the  surface,  and  the  larger  build- 
ings and  towers,  seen  farther  off  in  the  midst  of  the 
town,  obviously  remembered  Spain;  but  the  Indian 
suburbs  bore  on  the  face  of  them  the  marks  of  an 
ancient  tradition,  a  habit  of  life  old  as  the  East,  yet 
other.  It  was  not  refined,  however  picturesque.  The 
mud  hovels  by  the  road-side  were  oftenest  drinking 
booths,  where  the  signs  of  intoxication  were  flagrant, 
and  the  folk  looked  degraded  and  dirty;  yet  their 
costumes,  with  all  their  bright  colors,  made  the  roads 
like  a  flower-garden. 


CHAPTER  VII 
LA  PAZ 

LA  PAZ,  seen  from  above,  looks  flat;  when  you 
get  among  its  streets,  it  is  difficult  to  stand  on 
the  steeply  inclined  pavements.  Where  the 
paved  way  began  I  rejoined  the  tilbury;  the  man 
whipped  up  his  horses,  and  we  flashed  along  the  ways 
at  a  dangerously  swaggering  pace,  amidst  a  volley 
of  cracks  from  the  whip.  People  jumped  aside  and 
only  just  succeeded  in  escaping  our  wild  rush.  How 
we  bumped  and  rattled!  I  looked  every  moment  for 
the  wheels  to  fly  into  disconnected  spokes;  but  noth- 
ing happened.  After  swirling  round  one  corner  after 
another,  a  final  dash  brought  us  into  the  great  square 
of  the  town,  the  Plaza  (named  ''i6  de  Julio'')  lacking 
which  no  South  American  city  could  respect  itself. 
We  drew  up  before  the  door  of  "Guibert's  Hotel/'  a 
really  admirable  hostelry  to  find  in  so  remote  a  place. 
A  moment  later  I  was  installed  in  excellent  rooms, 
well  furnished  and  thoroughly  European  in  aspect, 
with  a  view  from  the  windows  across  to  a  cathedral, 
and  with  all  signs  of  civilization  around.  Had  it 
not  been  that  the  lip  of  the  Alto's  cliff  appeared  high 
up  on  the  sky-line,  and  the  dust  of  the  Puna  was  thick 
upon  me,  I  might  have  found  it  easy  to  imagine  that 
all  the  experiences  of  the  day  had  been  a  dream,  and 

77 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

that  I  had  come  to  this  town,  as  one  usually  comes 
to  civilized  places,  by  train.  Before  I  had  had  time 
to  don  the  garments  of  civilization,  the  hospitable 
gentry  of  La  Paz  came  to  greet  me  with  the  cocktail 
of  welcome.  One  and  all  offered  me  their  help  and 
did  their  best  to  make  me  feel  at  home  at  the  very 
moment  of  arrival;  nor  from  that  moment  until  the 
day  I  left  Bolivia  did  I  experience  at  the  hands  of  the 
people  of  La  Paz  anything  but  the  utmost  kindness, 
the  grateful  memory  of  which  will  not  leave  me  until 
the  end  of  my  days. 

The  first  work  there  was  for  me  in  La  Paz  was  to 
settle  relations  with  the  climate,  or  rather  with  the 
altitude,  for  the  hotel  in  the  Plaza  stands  11,945  f^^t 
above  sea-level,  and  it  takes  time  to  habituate  one's 
self  to  living  day  in  and  day  out  so  far  above  one's 
usual  altitude.  Having  already  spent  a  week  at 
Arequipa  and  on  the  way  up,  always  more  than  7000 
feet  above  sea-level,  and  for  the  best  part  of  three  days 
from  12,000  to  14,000  feet,  without  experiencing  the 
smallest  discomfort,  the  last  thing  that  occurred  to 
me  was  that  I  should  find  the  altitude  of  La  Paz  at  all 
disconcerting.  But  the  day  after  my  arrival  I  awoke 
with  headache  and  a  general  feeling  of  sickness, 
which  increased  as  the  hours  went  on,  so  that  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  to  bed  again  and  stay 
there.  I  attributed  my  woes  to  the  hospitality  attend- 
ing my  arrival,  but  when  the  doctor  came  he  assured 
me  that  I  was  only  suffering  from  the  normal  incon- 
venience which  besets  new-comers,  the  redoubtable 
sorocche,  or  mountain-sickness,  and  that  I  should 
get  over  it  sooner  or  later.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  it 

78 


CONGRESS    BUILDING.   LA    PAZ 


'V^  Of  THE 

OF 

califob; 


LA    PAZ 

passed  away  in  twenty-four  hours.  Englishmen^ 
faniihar  only  with  European  altitudes,  generally 
labor  under  the  delusion  that  they  have  never  expe- 
rienced any  effect  from  diminished  atmospheric  press- 
ure, because  they  have  never  been  mountain-sick. 
They  ascribe  such  fatigue  as  they  may  have  felt  near 
a  mountain-top  entirely  to  the  work  done  in  climbing. 
But  if  they  could  be  moved  to  La  Paz,  for  however 
short  or  long  a  time,  they  would  soon  perceive  that 
they  were  not  at  sea-level.  The  streets  of  the  town 
being  steep,  all  the  inhabitants,  when  they  come  to- 
walk  up  -  hill,  demonstrate  by  the  rapidity  of  their 
breathing  and  the  slowness  of  their  gait  that  they  too 
are  affected  by  the  diminished  atmospheric  pressure. 
Many  persons  can  never  become  habituated  to  the  alti- 
tude, and  are  more  or  less  ill  during  the  whole  course 
of  their  stay.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with 
children  and  persons  of  advanced  age.  In  my  opinion 
the  diminution  in  atmospheric  pressure  affects  men 
to  an  appreciable  extent  at  far  lower  levels  than  is 
generally  believed.  Because  a  man  is  not  conscious 
of  the  effect,  it  does  not  at  all  follow  that  no  effect  is 
produced  upon  him. 

South  America,  as  is  generally  known,  is  a  great 
country  for  horse  -  racing.  Even  at  La  Paz  races 
were  of  frequent  occurrence.  I  was  informed  by 
sportsmen,  thoroughly  acquainted  with  racing  at 
many  different  levels,  in  Chile,  Bolivia,  and  Vene- 
zuela, that  every  thousand  feet  above  sea-level  tells 
markedly  upon  a  horse.  Thus,  taking  Valparaiso 
and  Santiago,  in  Chile,  as  instances,  the  race-course 
of  the  latter  being  some  2000  feet  above  that  of  the 

79 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

former,  a  horse  trained  at  Valparaiso  is  found  to  be 
unable  to  win  a  race  at  Santiago  against  an  equally 
good  horse  trained  there.  On  the  other  hand,  a  horse 
trained  at  Santiago  and  brought  down  to  Valparaiso 
is  in  perfect  condition  for  racing  there.  Again,  the 
lengths  of  races  which  a  horse  can  run  have  to  be  re- 
duced as  the  altitude  increases.  At  La  Paz  the  great- 
est length  that  a  horse  can  gallop  is  about  500  metres, 
and  that  is  a  severe  strain  upon  any  animal  that  has 
not  lived  at  La  Paz  for  months  before  the  race.  While 
I  was  there  a  very  fine  horse  was  brought  up  from 
Chile  and  was  allowed  to  race  within  a  week  or  two 
after  his  arrival.  The  horse  was  perfectly  sound,  but 
the  strain  was  too  much  for  him  and  he  died  the  day 
after  the  race.  It  may  be  said  that  horses  are  more 
sensitive  than  men  to  dilTerences  in  atmospheric  press- 
ure, and  doubtless  a  man  can  climb  many  thousand 
feet  higher  than  he  can  take  a  horse.  I  have  not  my- 
self seen  horse  or  mule  capable  of  carrying  a  man 
over  easy  ground  at  a  higher  altitude  than  about 
16,500  feet,  where  they  almost  uniformly  break  down. 
This  was  certainly  true  in  South  America,  and,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  at  about  that  altitude,  travellers 
crossing  the  Karakoram  Pass  between  Yarkand  and 
Kashmir  are  obliged  to  dismount  from  their  ponies, 
and,  if  they  ride  at  all,  transfer  themselves  to  yaks, 
though  I  have  been  told  that  in  Sikkim  horses  carry 
travellers  to  an  altitude  of  18,000  feet.  The  facts, 
however,  which  seem  to  be  proved  by  the  experience 
of  South  American  racing  men,  are  that  some  diminu- 
tion in  physical  vigor  is  produced  in  a  horse  at  even 
so  low  an  elevation  as  2000  feet  above  sea -level; 

80 


LA    PAZ 

that  this  loss  becomes  more  apparent  at  4000  or  5000 
feet,  and  that  at  12,000  it  is  very  marked  indeed.  What 
is  true  even  of  a  horse  in  a  high  state  of  training  is, 
in  my  opinion,  Hkewise  true  of  all  men,  though  perhaps 
to  a  less  degree.  From  sea-level  upward,  as  the  air 
becomes  rarer  and  the  supply  of  oxygen  less,  the 
strength  of  man  diminishes.  Though  this  diminu- 
tion may  not  be  perceived,  except  as  the  result  of  minute 
and  careful  experiment,  and  the  man  himself  may  be 
unconscious  of  it,  it  none  the  less  occurs. 

This  diminution  of  strength  is  quite  apart  from 
the  disease  which  we  call  mountain-sickness,  and  the 
South  Americans  sorocche  or  puna.  That  seems  to 
me  to  be  an  illness  corresponding  in  kind  to  sea-sick- 
ness, to  which  some  persons  are  more  prone  than 
others,  and  most  people  can  get  over.  It  is  caused 
by  a  nervous  derangement.  It  comes  on  suddenly, 
accompanied  by  headache,  vomiting,  or  other  well- 
marked  symptoms;  it  does  not  necessarily  overtake 
the  patient  at  the  moment  of  his  arrival  at  a  high 
altitude,  but  may  assail  him  even  as  much  as  a  week 
after  he  has  begun  living  high  above  sea-level ;  it  may 
pass  away  in  a  few  hours,  or  it  may  last  for  many 
days,  but  ultimately  it  goes,  in  the  case  of  normally 
healthy  persons.  Having  once  disappeared,  it  does 
not  return  unless  the  patient  has  in  the  mean  time 
descended  to  a  low  level  and  spent  some  considerable 
time  down  there.  If  my  surmise  is  correct,  we  must 
conclude  that  mountain-sickness  is  not  in  itself  a  bar 
to  high  mountain  climbing,  and  that  time  cures  it. 
But  the  steady  diminution  in  strength  which  accom- 
panies increasing  elevation  is  a  permanent  disability. 
F  81 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

It  naturally  affects  strong  men  less  than  weak  ones, 
seeing  that  they  have  the  larger  reserve  of  power  to 
draw  upon,  but  it  abstracts  from  the  strength  of  the 
strongest  just  as  it  does  from  the  strength  of  a  weaker 
man.  One  who  can  climb  5000  feet  in  a  day  without 
special  fatigue,  starting,  say,  from  8000  feet,  will 
experience  greater  fatigue  in  climbing  the  same  num- 
ber of  feet  if  he  starts  at  12,000  feet,  and  still  greater 
if  he  starts  at  14,000  feet;  so  that  in  making  a  high 
mountain  ascent,  requiring  several  days,  if  we  assume 
the  work  each  day  to  be  of  equal  difficulty,  the  stage 
of  ascent  will  have  to  be  made  shorter  and  shorter. 

This  diminution  of  daily  range  will  prove  to  be 
one  of  the  most  serious  impediments,  perhaps  the 
most  serious,  to  the  attainment  of  the  highest  alti- 
tudes on  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Unfortunately 
for  adventurous  mountain  explorers,  the  higher  they 
rise  the  greater  are  many  other  factors  of  difficulty 
with  which  they  have  to  contend.  The  cold  at  night 
increases  very  rapidly  above  20,000  feet,  and  at  any- 
thing like  24,000  feet  it  becomes  a  very  serious  matter 
indeed.  Almost  equally  wearing  to  the  system  is 
the  power  of  the  sun  by  day,  which,  shining  through 
the  thin  air,  scorches  the  life  out  of  a  man  in  an  ap- 
palling fashion.  The  difficulty  of  transport  is  another 
increasing  impediment,  for  the  higher  you  climb  the 
less  easy  it  is  to  find  porters  who  can  go  with  you,  and 
the  smaller  are  the  loads  they  are  able  to  bear.  Lastly, 
the  danger  arising  from  bad  weather  is  multiplied 
in  almost  geometrical  progression  the  higher  you  go. 
These  points  will  receive  illustration  in  the  course  of 
my  narrative. 

82 


LA    PAZ 

Sorocche  thus  deprived  me  of  my  first  day  at  La 
Paz,  though  not  so  suddenly  as  to  prevent  me  from 
setting  inquiries  on  foot  for  mules  and  other  essentials 
for  the  formation  of  a  caravan.  The  remaining  three 
days  of  my  stay  were  fully  occupied.  The  baggage 
had  to  be  unpacked  and  repacked,  a  store-room  hired 
for  it,  various  calls  paid,  and  letters  of  introduction 
presented.  Don  Manuel  Vicente  Ballivain,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Geographical  Society  of  La  Paz  and  an 
honorary  member  of  our  own  Geographical  Society, 
was  able  and  generous  to  serve  me  in  every  way,  and 
was  a  cyclopaedia  of  information  as  to  all  matters 
connected  with  his  country.  By  him  I  was  taken 
to  the  Meteorological  Observatory  of  the  Jesuits, 
where  I  compared  my  barometer  with  their  standard, 
and  found  the  two  to  be  in  close  agreement  one  with 
another.  The  Fathers  kindly  undertook  to  read  their 
instrument  at  frequent  stated  intervals  during  the 
days  of  my  absence  on  mountain  expeditions,  and  this 
agreement  was  faithfully  carried  out.  The  prefect 
of  the  department  offered  to  place  an  officer  of  the 
gendarmerie  at  my  disposal  to  look  after  my  caravan 
and  smooth  down  difficulties  for  me  in  out-of-the- 
way  places.  From  a  contractor,  Coro  by  name,  I 
hired  the  necessary  mules.  He  likewise  supplied  me 
with  one  Avelino  Villanova  for  arriero,  a  quaint  in- 
dividual, who  would  have  been  a  mine  of  "copy" 
for  this  book  if  I  could  have  understood  the  tenth  part 
of  what  he  said.  He  was  a  Sancho  Panza  come  again 
— "  paunch  -  bellied,  short  of  stature,  and  spindle- 
shanked'' — of  honest,  rather  stupid,  but  right  merry 
countenance,  who  took  the  troubles  of  life  with  grin- 

83 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

ning  resignation,  and  bombarded  adversity  with 
proverbs.  Like  Sancho,  he  could  neither  read  nor 
write.  He  rode  a  beast,  to  all  appearance  an  ass, 
though  he  swore  it  was  a  little  mule.  His  weak  legs 
flapped  against  its  flanks  as  though  they  had  been 
pendulous  from  the  beginning.  His  knees  had  been 
stretched  into  the  same  plane  as  his  body  by  the  wide 
saddles  on  which  he  had  passed  his  days,  pursuing 
errant  mules  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  trying 
to  keep  them  in  the  way  they  should  go.  Every  five 
minutes  he  dismounted  to  rearrange  a  load,  thus  aban- 
doning his  mule,  and  often  forced  to  pursue  it  long 
before  a  recapture  was  accomplished — verily  a  soul- 
torturing  existence;  yet  he  had  preserved  an  equal 
mind  throughout  it  all  and  remained  content  with  his 
lot,  and  even  proud  of  it.  If  he  retained  any  ambition, 
it  was  not  to  rule  an  island,  but  to  become  the  owner 
of  a  few  more  mules  beyond  the  two  which  represented 
the  savings  of  a  lifetime. 

The  first  work  we  had  to  undertake  was  the  ascent 
of  Illimani.  The  mountain  stared  us  in  the  face, 
when  the  weather  was  clear,  down  every  main  street 
in  the  town.  Indeed,  it  is  more  closely  associated 
with  La  Paz  than  is  any  other  great  mountain  known 
to  me  with  any  considerable  city.  I  can  only  com- 
pare it  with  Mont  Blanc  as  seen  from  Geneva;  but 
Illimani  is  nearer,  and  imposes  itself  upon  La  Paz 
far  more  emphatically  than  does  Mont  Blanc  upon 
the  Swiss  city.  Generally  speaking,  it  is  found  that 
mountains  attract  little  attention  from  the  people 
who  live  within  sight  of  them.  But  the  Indians  of 
Bolivia,   long  before  the  coming   of  the  Spaniards, 

84 


LA    PAZ 

seem  to  have  paid  much  attention  to  the  great  peaks 
of  the  Cordillera  Real.  To  begin  with,  they  are  all 
named,  not  with  general  names  applying  to  the  range 
merely,  but  with  individual  names  belonging  to  the 
single  peaks.  A  stranger,  unacquainted  with  the 
Aymara  tongue,  finds  it  impossible  to  discover  these 
names  and  to  identify  the  peaks  to  which  they  belong, 
while  to  the  Bolivians  the  nomenclature  is  uninterest- 
ing. It  is  only  the  Indians  who  care  about  the  moun- 
tains. 

In  the  Alps,  before  the  days  of  mountaineer- 
ing, there  were  hardly  any  named  peaks.  The 
whole  range  of  Zermatt  Mountains  was  simply 
called  Gletscher  Mons,  or,  in  the  local  patois,  Monte 
Roese,  now  corrupted  into  Monte  Rosa.  A  Latin- 
ized form  of  the  same  designation,  Mons  Silvius, 
was  locally  corrupted  into  Cervin.  It  was  only 
much  later  that  these  general  names  were  respec- 
tively attached  by  travellers  to  the  particular  peaks 
now  known  as  Monte  Rosa  and  Mont  Cervin  or 
the  Matterhorn. 

In  Bolivia,  in  the  days  of  the  Incas,  as  I  have  said, 
and  perhaps  much  earlier,  the  individual  peaks  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  natives  and  figured  in 
their  legends  as  the  abode  of  divinities.  Illimani,  it 
appears,  was  honored  either  as  a  god  or  the  abode 
of  a  god  by  the  people  dwelling  in  the  La  Paz  valley 
and  on  the  flanks  of  the  mountain.  This  traditional 
respect  for  the  peak  survives  to  the  present  day, 
though  with  diminished  force.  One  of  the  principal 
streets  of  La  Paz  is  named  Illimani  Street.  An  easily 
recognizable  picture  of  the  mountain  forms  the  sign- 

85 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

board  of  an  establishment  for  the  sale  of  alcoholic 
drinks,  which  seemed  to  be  well  patronized;  and  the 
people  in  general  manifest  in  many  other  small  ways 
their  interest  and  pride  in  the  mountain.  Whoever 
should  prove  to  them  that  it  is  higher  than  Acon- 
cagua would  earn  their  hearty  gratitude.  It  was 
elicited,  in  response  to  diligent  inquiry  of  those  best 
calculated  to  form  an  opinion,  that  the  remoter  side 
of  the  peak  was  that  by  which  an  attack  would  most 
likely  be  successful. 

I  was  by  no  means  the  first  to  attempt  the  ascent. 
Pentland  and  Gibbon  tried  it,  but  did  not  get  very 
far  up  the  actual  mountain,  though  they  crossed  high 
passes  both  north  and  south  of  it.  Mr.  J.  B.  Min- 
chin,  whose  acquaintance  I  afterwards  made  at  Oruro, 
climbed  to  the  edge  of  one  of  the  glaciers  on  the  west 
side,  but,  being  alone,  wisely  declined  to  venture  up 
the  ice-fall.  General  Pando,  now  (1900)  President  of 
Bolivia,  likewise  once  made  a  plucky  assault  on  the 
great  mountain  and  reached  a  high  elevation.  Mon- 
sieur Wiener,  at  the  time  French  Representative  in 
Bolivia,  made  an  ascent  from  Cotafia  Farm  of  a  peak 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  Pic  de  Paris.  Unfortu- 
nately, I  was  not  able  to  identify  it  conclusively.  What 
was  more  to  the  point  for  us  than  this  ancient  history 
was  the  information  that  Mr.  Bandolier,  of  whom  I 
shall  have  more  to  say  hereafter,  was  actually  at  that 
moment  encamped  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  and 
contemplated  attempting  the  ascent.  If  we  had  been 
inclined  to  delay,  this  news  would  have  hastened  our 
proceedings;  but  the  shortness  of  the  climbing  season 
urged  us  to  the  utmost  rapidity  of  movement. 

86 


LA    PAZ 

In  the  afternoon,  when  we  were  in  the  midst  of  pack- 
ing, there  rolled  into  the  room  a  small  and  self-impor- 
tant personage  in  uniform,  who  gave  his  name  as 
Jos6  S.  Espinosa.  He  was  apparently  in  a  high 
state  of  satisfaction,  for  he  clapped  me  on  the  back, 
sat  down  on  the  best  chair  in  the  room,  helped  him- 
self to  cigars,  and  proceeded  to  harangue  me  at  some 
length  in  Spanish.  I  had  not  the  least  idea  what 
he  said,  my  Spanish  being  in  the  most  rudimentary 
condition,  and  I  was  well  pleased  to  see  him  presently 
depart.  Unfortunately,  as  will  appear,  that  was 
not  the  last  of  him.  Next  morning  he  turned  up  at  the 
hour  of  starting  and  asked  for  money.  I  then  dis- 
covered that  he  was  the  gendarmerie  officer  who  was 
to  be  my  companion,  and  I  at  once  detected  trouble 
ahead.  The  mules  arrived  not  more  than  an  hour 
late,  and  a  number  of  persons  came  to  see  our  cara- 
van start  and  wish  us  luck  on  the  way. 

The  Bolivian  mule-saddle  is  a  wonderful  affair;  it 
appeared  to  consist,  on  an  average,  of  some  dozen 
sheepskins  in  various  stages  of  dilapidation,  among 
which  a  wooden  frame  was  buried.  There  were  no 
convenient  angles,  as  in  the  Californian  saddle,  for 
the  attachment  of  cords,  and,  indeed,  baggage  was 
only  held  in  place  by  a  convolution  of  ropes  which 
injuriously  constricted  the  beast.  But  what  the  sys- 
tem of  loading  lacked  in  wisdom  was  to  some  extent 
made  up  for  by  the  skill  of  our  arriero,  who  had  a 
way  of  tossing  over  his  ropes  in  peculiar  loops  and 
knotting  them  with  great  cleverness.  It  was  always 
amusing  to  watch  him  load  one  of  his  unwilling  ani- 
mals.    He  would  cozen  it  into  the  delusion  of  capture 

87 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

by  throwing  a  mere  rope's-end  over  its  neck;  then 
he  would  wrap  his  head  up  in  a  shawl  and  proceed 
to  pile  on  his  collection  of  sheepskins.  The  next  step 
was  to  hitch  two  heavy  pieces  of  baggage,  looped 
together  like  panniers,  across  its  back.  With  these 
for  foundation,  other  goods  were  piled  on,  and  then 
the  whole  was  roped  up.  At  each  pull  of  the  cord 
the  man  grunted,  and  so  did  the  beast,  in  apparent 
sympathy,  while  every  action  was  accompanied  by 
some  more  or  less  humorous  comment,  addressed 
either  to  the  mule  or  the  by-standers.  My  guides 
justly  considered  themselves  to  know  something 
about  loading  mules,  for  each  was  a  mule-owner, 
accustomed  to  drive  his  beast  of  burden  down  from 
his  village  home  with  a  load  to  the  railway  station  at 
Chatillon  and  to  bring  it  up  again,  such  being  the 
daily  work,  except  in  the  climbing  and  harvest  sea- 
sons, of  the  peasants  of  Val  Tournanche.  They 
therefore  had  many  criticisms  to  make  upon  the  mules, 
their  loading  and  their  treatment ;  and  I  have  no  doubt, 
now  that  they  are  at  home  again,  they  have  more  to 
say  about  the  mules  of  Bolivia  and  Chile  than  about 
the  people,  or  even  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LA  PAZ  TO  COTANA. 

A  T  last  all  was  ready.  Bidding  farewell  to  my 
l\  agent,  Senor  Granier,  a  Bolivian  of  French  extrac- 
tion, whose  assistance  was  most  useful  to  me,  I 
gave  the  word  to  start,  whereupon  one  of  the  baggage 
mules  began  violently  bucking,  mixed  his  load  up  with 
the  others,  kicked  Pellissier's  beast,  and  set  up  a  little 
pandemonium.  Simultaneously  the  gendarmerie  officer 
began  demanding  an  advance  of  money,  and  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  was  spent  in  quieting  men  and  beasts  before 
we  fairly  got  under  way.  By  ten  o'clock  order  was 
temporarily  restored  and  we  were  filing  down  the  street 
in  sight  of  a  crowd  of  on-lookers.  I  never  commenced 
an  expedition  with  less  sanguine  expectations;  I  had 
no  confidence  in  my  native  companions;  I  had  not  the 
ghost  of  an  idea  of  the  geography  of  the  complicated 
valley  system  that  lay  between  La  Paz  and  our  moun- 
tain; I  could  not  speak  the  language;  I  was  ignorant 
as  to  the  character  of  the  supplies  that  might  be  avail- 
able, or  where  and  how  it  would  be  possible  to  enlist 
porters  for  carrying  our  baggage  up  the  slopes  of  the 
mountain.  Thus  it  was  with  not  a  few  forebodings 
that  I  rode  along  the  cobble-stoned  street  in  the  cold 
morning  air.  In  a  few  minutes  the  town  was  left 
behind,  and  the  road  passed  through  a  short,  deep^ 

89 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

cutting,  which  had  doubtless  been  worn  down  into  the 
dry  alluvial  hill  by  ages  of  traffic.  On  suddenly 
emerging  from  it,  Illimani  stood  up  before  us  in  clear- 
ness and  splendor.  The  sun  was  shining  on  its  white 
crest  and  on  the  group  of  parallel  glaciers  that  drain 
down  its  western  slope.  Maquignaz  rode  up  beside 
me  and  seemed  for  the  moment  as  hopeful  of  success 
as  he  was  always  determined  to  succeed.  ''What  a 
splendid  mountain ! ''  he  cried. 

" Do  you  see  a  route  up  it  from  this  side?"  I  asked. 

"Who  can  tell?''  he  answered.  ''But  let  us  come 
near  the  snow,  and,  one  way  or  another,  we  shall 
assuredly  get  up/' 

In  the  course  of  my  wanderings  I  have  driven  cara- 
vans of  horses,  ponies,  donkeys,  of  camels,  and  of 
heathen  coolies  of  different  races,  but  it  so  chanced 
that  this  was  my  first  experience  of  mules  in  quantity. 
It  is  generally  understood  that  mules  are  not  urged 
to  continuous  exertion  by  blows,  but  by  strong  lan- 
guage, towards  which  their  understanding  is  as  alert 
as  their  experience  of  it  is  profound.  Strong  lan- 
guage brings  back  the  wanderer  and  urges  on  the 
faint;  so  I  was  informed.  I  approached  my  mules 
remembering  the  story  of  Billy  the  Pike  in  Clarence 
King's  Mountaineering  in  the  Sierra  Nevada,  one 
of  the  finest  books  on  mountain-travel  ever  written. 
Billy  had  been  congratulated  on  his  powers  of  lan- 
guage. "  'Swear?'  repeated  the  Pike,  in  a  tone  of 
incredulous  questioning.  'Me  swear?'  as  if  the  com- 
pliment were  greater  than  his  modest  desert.  'No, 
I  can't  blaspheme  worth  a  cuss.  You'd  jest  orter  hear 
Pete  Green.     He  can  exhort  the  impenitent  mule.     I've 

90 


1 

fck'-  ■  -■  ■ 

-  _   - 

'  % 

k 

■n^^ 

«4 

1 

riEaii 

S  ^^^jL    ' 

1 

1 

1 

iji 

^m.  T-  ^^^^t^k 

^ 

1 

■^■1^ 

mHyg^^^^^lllll 

IH 

H 

*   i  :       ■  m 

^^^^^^B  *                    ''^''V^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l 

■i 

H 

-.•    ^^     r 

-*••, 

THE    GUIDES    LADING    A   MULE 


AN    INDIAN    WEAVING 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTARA 

known  a  ten-mule  team  to  renounce  the  flesh  and  haul 
thirty-one  thousand  through  a  foot  of  clay  mud  under 
one  of  his  outpourings. ' "  I  had  swallowed  this  story 
whole  with  relish  in  London ;  I  chewed  the  cud  of  it  in 
Bolivia. 

The  exit  from  the  great  basin  of  La  Paz  is  by  the 
narrow  valley  of  the  La  Paz  River ;  this,  like  the  basin 
itself,  is  delved  out  of  the  deep  alluvial  deposit,  whose 
gray  and  brown  substance,  cut  up  into  queer  shapes 
and  continually  eaten  into  by  the  torrents  of  the  rainy 
season,  forms  the  barren  sides  of  the  gorge.  The 
section  reveals  horizontal  beds  of  shingle,  sand,  and 
clay,  with  a  few  layers  of  fine  volcanic  tufa,  which 
may  have  come  from  the  Western  Cordillera.  Now 
and  again,  where  some  stray  leakage  from  an  irriga- 
tion canal  damps  the  soil,  a  tiny  oasis  of  fertility 
springs  up.  One  such  spot  close  beside  the  road 
was  rich  with  ferns  and  multitudinous  flowers  just 
beginning  to  show  blossom;  but  for  the  most  part 
the  surroundings  in  the  bright  sunlight  were  prac- 
tically bare  of  vegetation.  So  much  the  more  did 
they  throw  into  bright  relief  the  groups  of  Indians 
in  their  colored  attire  who  came  in  quick  succession 
along  the  road,  carrying  towards  La  Paz  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  fertile  lower  regions.  Many  of  them 
this  day  were  carrying  rose-bushes,  planted  in  old 
petroleum  tins,  to  the  La  Paz  flower-market;  for  the 
people  of  La  Paz  are  very  fond  of  flowers  and  pay 
much  attention  to  their  gardens.  I  noticed  that  the 
Indians  who  came  up  the  valley  were  of  a  different 
type  from  those  we  had  passed  on  the  Puna,  and  that 
they  wore  a  somewhat  different  costume. 

91 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

A  mile  or  two  below  the  town  comes  the  village 
or  suburb  named  Obrajes,  where  many  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  La  Paz  have  villas;  for  Obrajes  is  not  only 
lower  and  more  sheltered,  and  thus  has  a  less  rigor- 
ous climate  than  La  Paz,  but  is  well  supplied  with 
water,  and  has  some  flat  and  very  fertile  ground  suit- 
able for  gardens.  Here  were  peach-trees  in  blos- 
som, and  cactus  hedges,  which  a  few  weeks  later 
were  covered  with  beautiful  wax-like  flowers  of  the 
most  delicate  hues;  and  there  were  graceful  willow- 
trees  to  give  shade,  and  quantities  of  lupines  growing 
wild  on  ground  that  is  flooded  in  the  rainy  season. 
The  gardens  were  full  of  fruit  trees,  and  though  the 
houses  were  merely  built  of  mud,  and  looked  ill-cared 
for  and  devoid  of  comfort,  yet  the  place  had  an  at- 
tractive air,  and  the  affection  of  the  inhabitants  tow- 
ards it  was  easily  understood. 

Crossing  the  mouth  of  the  Calocota  Valley,  which 
will  be  described  hereafter,  and  then  crossing  the  al- 
most dry  bed  of  La  Paz  River  itself,  we  passed  along 
the  right  bank  and  entered  a  narrow  defile,  where 
the  traces  of  the  powerful  denuding  action  of  the  rainy 
season  became  very  apparent.  There  were  the  dried- 
up  remains  of  great  land-slips  and  mud  avalanches 
which  had  fallen  in  previous  rainy  seasons.  Higher 
up  the  scooped-out  hollows  could  be  identified,  from 
which  had  descended  the  rounded  heaps  of  debris 
now  resting  on  the  bottom  of  the  gorge.  A  little  lower 
down  on  our  right  hand  came  a  great  cliff  of  alluvial 
deposit,  cut  up  all  over  its  face  and  at  its  top  into  spires 
of  the  kind  known  as  ''earth  pyramids.''  These  were 
by  no  means  the  first  earth  pyramids  we  had  come 

92 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTASA 

across,  for  the  edge  of  the  La  Paz  basin  is  freely  deco- 
rated with  them,  and  they  are  common,  as  might  be 
expected,  wherever  the  great  alluvial  deposit  is  cut 
away  into  cliffs  and  subjected  to  the  action  of  heavy 
rains.  Alpine  travellers  are  acquainted  with  earth 
pyramids  in  the  Val  de  Bagnes  and  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Meran.  I  had  seen  them  on  a  large  scale  near 
Lamayuru,  in  Western  Tibet,  but  I  never  saw  or  heard 
of  such  a  remarkable  development  of  this  formation 
as  is  shown  in  the  La  Paz  Valley.  Luckily  our  path 
led  by  steep  zigzags  straight  up  the  cliff,  and  I  was 
thus  enabled  to  investigate  the  pyramids  in  detail. 
I  found  on  arriving  at  the  top  that  the  whole  surface 
of  the  ground  for  a  great  distance  was  cut  up  in  this 
fashion,  so  that  the  path  wound  about  among  strange 
spires  of  earth  in  the  most  devious  fashion,  almost 
like  the  track  of  climbers  traversing  a  complicated 
ice-fall.  There  were,  in  fact,  deep  crevasses  cut  far 
down  into  the  muddy  substance,  and  shafts  like  gla- 
cier moulins,  and  scooped-out  caves,  and  great  hol- 
lows with  narrow  necks  like  bottles — all  the  work 
of  torrential  rain-storms  during  four  months  in  the 
year.  A  more  weird  region  it  would  scarcely  be  pos- 
sible to  conceive,  though,  of  course,  the  cut-up  surface 
was  of  no  great  width — a  hundred  yards  or  so — merely 
fringing  the  top  edge  of  the  cliff. 

I  presently  discovered  that  the  portion  of  the  allu- 
vium we  were  now  traversing  had  a  different  origin 
from  that  of  the  great  mass  out  of  which  the  La  Paz 
basin  has  been  scooped.  The  facts  appear  to  be  as 
follow :  At  a  remote  epoch  the  whole  area  of  country 
lying  between  the  two  Cordilleras,  from  latitude  14° 

93 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

S.  southward  for  about  13^,  was  a  great  inland  sea. 
It  is  probable  that  this  region  was  not  then  elevated 
so  high  above  the  level  of  the  surface  of  the  ocean 
as  it  now  is.  This  inland  sea  had  no  exit  eastward 
corresponding  to  the  present  La  Paz  Valley.  Its 
basin  was  gradually  filled  up  with  debris  produced 
by  the  disintegration  of  the  surrounding  mountains, 
the  whole  area  being  meantime  elevated  and  gradu- 
ally dried,  so  that  the  inland  sea  shrank  to  its  present 
dimensions.  Later  on,  by  a  process  to  which  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  refer  hereafter,  the  La  Paz  River 
cut,  approximately  to  its  present  dimensions,  the  deep 
trench  in  which  I  had  just  been  travelling,  and  down 
which  my  way  was  to  go  to  the  foot  of  Illimani. 
Then  a  relatively  small  lake,  which  may  have  been 
formed  by  a  land-slip  damming  up  the  valley,  as  the 
great  Gohna  Lake  was  formed  not  long  ago  in  the 
Himalayas,  bursting  through  its  dam,  carried  down, 
in  the  form  of  a  mud-avalanche,  an  immense  mass  of 
debris,  which  filled  up  the  bottom  of  the  La  Paz  Val- 
ley from  the  neighborhood  of  Obrajes  downward, 
a  distance  of  about  eight  miles,  to  a  depth  gradually 
diminishing  from  two  hundred  feet  to  not  more  than 
forty,  where  it  ended.  This  mud-avalanche,  when  it 
freshly  came  to  rest,  resembled  a  glacier  lying  in  a 
valley-bottom.  The  La  Paz  River  in  process  of  time 
cut  a  canyon  through  the  mud-avalanche,  so  that  to- 
day only  portions  of  it  are  left.  The  earth  pyramids 
I  have  been  describing  are  on  the  face  and  along  the 
edge  of  this  canyon. 

For  a  mile  or  two  our  way  lay  along  the  top  of  the 
old  mud-avalanche,  evidently  a  very  fertile  piece  of 

94 


r\c  -rue      "^ 


u 


OF  THE 


NIVERSITY 

OF 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTANA 

land;  the  road  was  lined  on  both  sides  by  a  close  hedge 
of  cactus,  and  there  was  a  prosperous  little  agricult- 
ural village  where  I  noticed  some  orchards  of  prickly- 
pear.     In  due  season  we  descended  by  another  steep 
set  of  zigzags  to  the  river-bank,  where  a  halt  was 
made  to  water  the  mules,  three  and  a  half  hours  from 
La  Paz.  We  now  returned  to  the  left  bank  and  mounted 
high  up  the  steep  slope.     The  valley  was  no  longer 
cut  in  alluvial  deposits,  but  in  the  rocky  substance 
of  the  hills,  against  which  bits  of  the  mud-avalanche 
were  plastered  here  and  there.     For  half  a  mile  or  so 
the  path  was  of  a  rather  giddy  description,  cut  into 
the  precipitous  slope.     We  kept  encountering  donkey- 
caravans  coming  up,  driven  by  Indians,  and  there 
was  always  a  struggle  as  to  who  should  get  the  inside ; 
for  though,  after  the  manner  of  mules  and  donkeys, 
the  beasts  preferred  the  outside  edge,   their  drivers 
were  in  no  case  indifferent  to  the  advantage  of  yielding 
that  situation  to  the  other  party.     At  last  we  came  out 
on  another  large  flat  area  of  mud-avalanche  and  had 
no  more  precipices  to  negotiate.     It  was  evident  that 
we  were  descending  to  a  substantially  lower  level. 
The  air  felt  oppressively  dense ;  the  heat,  falling  directly 
from  the  sun  or  reflected  from  the  bright  slopes  around, 
was  most  oppressive,  and  neither  the  guides  nor  I  were 
yet  in  hard  condition.     We  saw  a  big  country-house 
or  hacienda  not  very  far  ahead,  surrounded  by  fields 
and  fruit-gardens,  and  we  nourished  hopes  that  this 
might  be  the  place  for  lunch;  but  there  was  still  an 
hour  or  more  to  go,  and  our  only  consolation  was  that 
for  some  distance  the  road  was  good  enough  for  a 
canter,  as  up  to  then  it  had  not  been.     Putting  spurs 

95 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

to  the  mules,  we  raced  gayly  to  the  little  tamho  of 
Carrera. 

Thus  far  our  officer  had  only  been  objectionable 
in  a  mild  fashion.  He  annoyed  me,  indeed,  in  the 
very  outskirts  of  La  Paz,  by  stopping  a  countryman 
bringing  oranges  to  the  market,  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
make  out,  though  he  denied  it,  robbing  him;  he  also 
endeavored  to  force  upon  me  his  undesired  conversa- 
tion, and  then  sang  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  the  most 
cacophonous  ditties. 

''You  don't  sing?"  he  said  to  me. 

"No/^  I  replied,  ''Idon^" 

"I  do,''  he  said,  "all  the  time— like  this,''  and  off 
he  went.  But  arrived  at  the  tamho  he  was  in  great 
form.  He  routed  out  the  old  lady  who  kept  the  store 
and  gave  his  orders  like  a  king;  uncorked  the  beer, 
and  divided  the  sausages  and  other  simple  foods 
that  the  little  hut  afforded,  offering  what  he  pleased 
to  any  one  who  came  to  look  on,  and  helping  himself 
before  me  or  anybody  else.  Evidently,  in  his  opinion, 
the  whole  expedition  existed  for  his  enjoyment,  and 
he  proposed  to  plunder  it  at  his  leisure.  For  the  mo- 
ment, owing  to  my  small  command  of  Spanish,  I 
was  obliged  to  let  the  matter  pass  and  await  devel- 
opments. The  arriero  came  up  with  the  baggage- 
mules  and  proceeded  to  feed  them.  On  preparing 
to  leave  I  was  charged  for  the  mules'  fodder,  though 
it  had  been  an  item  in  the  contract  between  me  and 
the  mule-owner  that  he  should  pay  for  their  food.  I 
therefore  resisted  the  charge,  and  informed  the  ar- 
riero that  he  must  pay,  not  knowing  that  his  master 
had  carefully  sent  him  off  without  a  coin  in  his  pocket. 

96 


A   DONKEY   CARAVAN    IN    THE    LA    PAZ    VALLEY 


THE    LA    PAZ    VALLEY 


f  UNWERSITY 

OF 
CALIFOj 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTANA 

Accordingly,  I  rode  away,  and  so,  presently,  did  he, 
driving  off  the  mules  and  leaving  the  good  woman 
to  whistle  for  her  money.  Later  on,  of  course,  I  saw 
that  she  received  her  due  at  the  mule-owner's  expense. 
During  the  remainder  of  the  day  we  continued 
the  descent  of  the  valley,  soon  leaving  the  last  rem- 
nants of  the  mud-avalanche  behind.  We  passed  one 
or  two  oases,  where  side  streams,  distributed  by  irriga- 
tion canals,  brought  fertility  to  the  arid  soil;  but  for 
the  most  part  our  way  lay  down  the  barren  trough, 
with  great  bare  slopes,  fantastically  denuded,  rising 
steeply  on  either  hand  and  shutting  out  all  distant 
view.  The  road  was  usually  bad,  lying  in  fact  among 
the  actual  bowlders  of  the  now  dry  river-bed,  but  oc- 
casionally there  came  smooth  fans  of  hard -baked 
mud,  like  an  adobe  floor,  at  the  mouth  of  side  val- 
leys, and  here  it  was  possible  to  advance  more  rapid- 
ly. Our  plan  was  to  spend  the  night  at  a  hacienda 
called  Millocato,  but  the  hours  passed  by  one  after 
another,  the  evening  came  on,  and  Millocato  did  not 
appear.  Just  at  dusk,  indeed,  we  reached  a  build- 
ing which  proved  to  be  the  tamho  of  Huaricana, 
but  I  had  been  especially  warned  not  to  stop  there, 
for  it  is  infested  by  tertian-fever.  On  we  pushed  ac- 
cordingly, as  quickly  as  the  tired  beasts  could  go,  but 
black  night  overtook  us,  and  still  there  was  no  house 
in  sight.  To  make  matters  worse,  it  now  appeared 
that  neither  our  officers  nor  the  arriero  had  ever  been 
down  the  valley  before.  At  last  I  saw  the  glimmer- 
ings of  a  light  in  the  distance,  and,  riding  towards 
it,  found  Indians,  who  directed  us  to  the  desired  goal. 
A  number  of  barking  dogs  and  inquisitive  Indians 
G  97 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

surrounded  us  at  the  door,  where  the  major-domo  of 
the  place  received  us,  and  gave  a  somewhat  grudg- 
ing permission  to  enter. 

We  found  ourselves  in  a  large  court -yard  sur- 
rounded by  a  series  of  one-storied  mud  buildings, 
whereof  the  one  next  to  the  gate  was  assigned  to  us. 
They  were  all  of  the  same  kind,  some  used  for  store- 
rooms, others  for  abodes,  very  dirty  and  unattrac- 
tive to  a  person  newly  come  from  Europe.  The  cham- 
ber we  were  to  occupy  was  swept  out  (it  had  previously 
been  occupied  by  the  cattle),  and  we  were  allowed  to 
ensconce  ourselves  and  our  baggage  there.  The 
officer  put  his  things  down  in  one  corner  and  asked 
what  we  were  going  to  give  him  to  eat  and  drink.  I 
showed  him  our  teapot  and  condensed  meats  and 
biscuits,  whereupon  he  snorted  and  disappeared. 
That  was  practically  the  last  we  saw  of  him  that  night, 
but  presently  we  heard  him  shouting  and  singing  in 
the  major-domo's  establishment  over  the  way,  and  an 
hour  or  two  later,  when  he  made  a  sudden  inroad  upon 
us  to  carry  off  his  baggage,  I  observed  that  he  was 
in  a  highly  festive  condition.  His  songs  grew  louder, 
and  other  noises  came  from  his  neighborhood,  as 
though  he  were  knocking  things  about  and  advancing 
through  various  stages  of  intoxication.  Whenever 
I  woke  up  during  the  night  he  was  still  at  it,  and  I 
was  informed  next  day  that  he  had  consumed  no 
less  than  five  bottles  of  the  cheap  spirits  of  the  country. 
Anxious  to  be  early  on  the  road  and  take  advantage 
of  the  cool  of  the  morning  as  long  as  possible,  I  was 
up  betimes.     Then  the  trouble  began. 

First  the  arriero  came  for  money,  stating  that  he 

98 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTANA 

must  have  six  dollars  for  the  night's  entertainment. 
Two  would  have  been  too  much.  Then  the  drunk- 
en officer,  whose  debauch  was  not  yet  concluded, 
came  with  the  major-domo  to  demand  more  dollars 
to  pay  for  what  he  had  consumed.  He  addressed 
us  truculently,  and  then  wandered  away,  rolling 
about  the  court-yard  in  a  condition  of  great  excite- 
ment and  haranguing  all  and  sundry.  Needless  to 
say  he  was  not  too  firm  upon  his  feet,  and  in  the  midst 
of  his  eloquence  he  frequently  collapsed  upon  the 
ground.  He  had  been  sent  to  see  that  we  were  not 
cheated,  but  he  took  this  first  opportunity  of  threat- 
ening the  major-domo  with  his  everlasting  displeas- 
ure if  he  allowed  us  to  go  unless  we  paid  him  a  con- 
siderable sum — a  large  percentage,  doubtless,  for  his 
own  pocket.  The  poor  major-domo  came  to  me  and 
explained  that  he  was  in  terror  of  all  gendarmerie  offi- 
cers, as  they  had  it  in  their  power  to  do  him  a  great 
deal  of  harm.  There  were  one  or  two  other  Bolivians 
in  the  place,  but  they  all  cowered  away  in  dread  of 
the  drunken  official.  Presently  the  court-3^ard  be- 
gan to  fill  with  Indian  farm-laborers  coming  to  their 
day's  work.  The  officer  turned  his  attention  to  them, 
and  proceeded  to  make  a  pretence  of  drilling  them. 
They  had  to  shoulder  mattocks,  present,  etc.,  to  his 
word  of  command.  It  was  one  of  the  funniest  things 
I  ever  saw — this  small,  strutting  personage,  with  his 
flushed  face,  thick  utterance,  and  uncertain  drunken 
paces,  rollicking  about  in  front  of  the  dismayed  Ind- 
ians, explaining  to  them  how  they  must  stand  and 
what  they  must  do,  and  falling  over  from  time  to  time 
in   the   midst   of   his   eloquence.     To   make   matters 

99 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

worse,  he  was  armed  with  a  carbine  and  kept  threat- 
ening to  shoot.  After  much  trouble  I  succeeded  in 
getting  the  mules  loaded  up  behind  a  corner,  where 
they  were  not  in  view,  and  sent  them  away  with  the 
arriero.  I  also  sent  off  an  Indian  to  La  Paz  with  a  letter 
explaining  the  situation.  On  myself  endeavoring  to 
start,  the  officer  and  the  people  of  the  place,  whom  he 
overawed,  opposed  my  departure,  and  the  officer,  in 
order  to  establish  his  position,  made  bold  to  declare 
that,  so  far  from  being  under  my  orders,  I  was  under 
his ;  that  he  had  been  sent  to  watch  me  and  interfere 
with  my  movements,  and  that  he  called  upon  the 
Bolivians  to  support  him  and  prevent  me  from  going 
farther.  With  the  inconsistency  of  a  drunkard,  how- 
ever, he  forgot  this  a  few  minutes  later;  so,  watching 
my  opportunity,  I  jumped  on  my  mule  and  rode  away, 
whereupon,  I  am  informed,  he  mounted  his  animal 
and  started  off  in  pursuit,  but  he  hadn't  gone  a  hun- 
dred yards  before  he  fell  off.  He  smashed  his  carbine, 
cut  his  forehead,  and  hurt  himself  in  other  ways. 
The  people  of  the  farm  found  him  in  this  plight  and 
put  him  back  to  bed,  where  he  remained  for  the  best 
part  of  the  next  two  days,  and  thus  relieved  us  of 
his  unwelcome  company.  On  our  return  to  La  Paz 
his  superiors  offered  me  every  satisfaction  for  the 
misbehavior  of  this  fellow. 

When  it  became  clear  that  we  were  free  of  our  trouble- 
some companion,  the  pleasures  of  the  day  began. 
The  air  was  soft,  the  bright  sunshine  gilded  the  crest 
of  the  mountains,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery 
could  scarcely  be  surpassed.  We  trotted  gayly  along 
the  valley  bottom,  over  a  mud  flat  whitened  with  a 

100 


THE   LA    PAZ    VALLEY    ROAD 


NEAR   HUARICANA 


Of 


LA    PAZ    TO    COTANA 

saline  efflorescence ;  then  came  again  into  stony  ways, 
where  our  pace  was  necessarily  slow.  At  Esquina 
de  Pongo  we  passed  the  mouth  of  a  deep  side  valley, 
leading  straight  towards  Illimani,  up  which,  as  we 
afterwards  discovered,  lies  a  better  route  towards 
the  mountain  than  the  one  we  took.  It  was,  in  fact, 
by  this  valley  that  we  descended.  Blissfully  ignorant 
of  all  such  geographical  details,  for  our  arriero  had 
not  the  dimmest  idea  of  where  we  ought  to  go,  we 
pushed  on  down  the  valley,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours 
came  to  the  richly  cultivated  oasis  named  Tirata, 
where  the  track  passed  along  the  edge  of  a  large  sugar 
plantation.  The  contrast  was  striking  between  the 
tropical  luxuriance  of  the  foreground  and  the  barren 
hill-sides  rising  all  round. 

Below  Tirata  the  valley  narrowed  to  a  gorge  and 
the  scenery  waxed  more  wild.  Steep  cliffs  approached 
one  another  from  both  sides,  and  the  bottom  was  re- 
duced to  a  narrow  stretch,  covered  with  rounded, 
water-worn  bowlders  difficult  to  travel  over.  Once 
or  twice  we  had  momentary  glimpses,  up  some  side 
gap,  of  the  snows  of  Illimani  enveloped  in  cloud, 
but  overhead  the  sky  was  clear  and  the  sun  shone 
down  into  our  trough  with  scorching  power.  The 
heat  was,  in  fact,  overwhelming,  and  the  very  rocks 
seemed  to  be  ablaze.  Conversation  ceased ;  we  pushed 
along,  each  in  the  solitude  of  his  own  suffering.  At 
noon  there  came  a  deeply  shadowed  cave,  wherein 
we  sheltered  awhile  to  lunch.  It  was  a  hollow  ex- 
cavated by  water,  for  during  the  rainy  season  the 
whole  width  of  the  gorge  down  which  we  had  come 
is  flooded  with  a  great  torrent  and  rendered  inacces- 

lOI 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

sible  to  man.  Caravans  descending  from  La  Paz 
must  then  take  a  different  route,  circulating  round 
the  slopes  of  the  mountain  by  devious  and  difficult 
tracks  instead  of  following  the  valley  itself.  Here 
I  found  it  easy  to  imagine  myself  back  again  in  the 
barren  gorges  of  the  Kashmir  Himalayas,  and  even 
the  few  Indians  who  came  by  were  not  unlike  the 
natives  of  those  Asiatic  fastnesses.  But  the  travelling 
population  was  small,  and  we  did  not  encounter  more 
than  half  a  dozen  persons  during  the  day.  The  losels 
and  scatterlings  who  people  the  tracks  of  Asia,  going 
long  foot- journeys  on  business  or  pilgrimages,  or 
merely  drifting  from  place  to  place,  find  no  parallel 
in  South  America.  I  missed  the  nomad's  greeting 
and  the  traces  of  his  tent  or  camp-fire.  The  orbit 
of  an  Aymara  Indian  is  small,  and  the  men  one  meets 
by  the  way  are  evidently  not  going  far.  It  is  other- 
wise in  Asia,  where  countless  wanderers  link  together 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  great  continent. 

Two  hours  lower  down  our  troubles  came  to  an 
end  at  the  beautiful  farm  of  Lurata,  where  we  could 
quit  the  deep  hot  hollow  and  turn  up  towards  the 
cool  heights.  The  desert  bottom  was  exchanged 
for  a  zigzag  track  among  beautiful  vineyards,  and 
soon  for  a  gently  sloping  pathway  along  the  edge 
of  an  ancient  canal,  conducting  the  waters  of  Illi- 
mani  to  the  roots  of  the  vines.  We  afterwards  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  wines  of  Lurata,  and  found 
them  highl}^  meritorious,  strong  red  wines  of  much 
body,  somewhat  resembling  port  in  character.  Great 
bushes  of  cane  grew  beside  the  watercourse,  and  many 
trees,  as  yet  bare  of  leaves,  for  springtime  was  only 

102 


LA    PAZ   TO    COTANA 

just  at  hand.  Gaunt  cactuses  covered  the  unculti- 
vated slopes  above  the  farm.  The  heat  diminished 
as  we  rose;  the  sun,  drawing  to  the  westward,  cast 
shade  upon  the  path.  The  view  widened,  and  soon 
there  came  in  sight  a  large  area  of  orchards  ahead, 
surrounding  houses  and  a  church.  Birds  chirped 
and  fluttered  about,  flocks  of  green  paroquets  of  the 
kind  called  Lobitos  screamed  among  the  trees,  and 
multitudes  of  pigeons  flew  about.  The  track  widened 
into  something  like  a  road,  which  ended  in  a  beautiful 
avenue  of  eucalyptus -trees,  leading  to  the  hacienda 
of  Cotafia.  On  dismounting  at  the  gate  I  found  to 
my  surprise  that  we  were  expected.  Seiior  Guillen, 
the  manager  of  the  estate,  came  down  through  a  cack- 
ling flock  of  white  turkeys  to  greet  us,  and,  carrying 
me  immediately  into  the  house,  introduced  me  to  his 
family  and  the  friends  he  was  at  the  time  entertaining, 
the  nephew  and  grandson  of  the  prefect  of  La  Paz. 
Luckily  for  me,  Sefior  Guillen's  son  and  the  prefect's 
grandson  could  both  speak  English.  The  ground 
floor  of  the  house  consisted  of  store-rooms  and  ofiices 
for  the  servants.  The  first  floor  contained  all  the 
dwelling-rooms,  and  was  approached  by  a  wide  brick 
staircase  which  gave  access  to  a  broad  arcaded  ve- 
randa. The  double  row  of  well-proportioned  columns 
gave  a  stately  appearance  to  the  fagade,  and  the  whole 
house,  standing  in  the  midst  of  tall  eucalyptus-trees, 
had  quite  a  fine  appearance.  The  rooms  were  large, 
though  rather  out  of  repair,  the  walls  covered  (as 
commonly  in  Bolivian  country  houses  and  inns)  with 
prints  cut  from  English  illustrated  papers,  mostly 
about  twenty  years  old. 

103 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE   FERTILE    SLOPES    OF    ILLIMANI 

THE  next  day  was  spent  in  this  charming  place. 
Cotana  may  be  taken  as  an  example  of  what  in 
Bolivia  is  called  a  jinca — that  is  to  say,  an  or- 
ganized country  estate,  which  may  be  compared  with 
a  mediaeval  English  manor.  A  finca  is  a  social  unit, 
and,  as  far  as  I  could  learn,  its  organization  mainly 
descends  from  pre-Spanish  days.  The  land  belongs 
to  a  proprietor,  and  so,  in  a  sense,  do  the  Indians 
dwelling  upon  it;  but  the  proprietor's  ownership  is 
subject  to  a  multitude  of  rights  possessed  by  the  Ind- 
ians. They  cultivate  the  owner's  land,  he  provid- 
ing the  necessary  seed;  each  Indian,  in  return  for 
his  labor,  yearly  receives  a  certain  amount  of  land 
for  his  own  use.  A  finca  Indian  will  do  things  for 
his  proprietor  or  his  proprietor's  representative  which 
he  will  do  for  no  one  else.  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  a  stranger  like  myself  to  have  hired  Indian 
porters  for  such  unusual  employment  as  I  proposed 
to  them.  Only  through  a  finca  proprietor  could  that 
be  done,  and  then  with  difficulty.  He  could  not  com- 
pel them  to  go  with  me,  but  he  could  use  his  influence 
to  persuade  them  to  do  so. 

Of  course,  without  land,  an  Indian  must  practically 
starve,  so  that  he  is  to  that  extent  at  the  mercy  of  the 

104 


THE    FERTILE   SLOPES   OF   ILLIMANl 

finca  proprietors.  On  the  other  hand,  the  owner  of 
a  finca  depends  on  his  Indians  for  labor;  if  they 
were  to  desert  in  any  numbers,  his  property  would 
become  valueless.  The  only  system  of  agriculture 
the  Indians  understand  is  the  prehistoric  system  of 
their  forefathers,  and  I  believe  it  is  practically  im- 
possible to  introduce  improved  methods,  for  the  na- 
tives are  intensely  conservative,  and  become  difficult 
to  manage  if  any  of  their  customs  are  interfered  with. 
Physical  force  is  not  available  to  keep  the  Indians 
in  order.  They  are  controlled  by  tradition,  the  au- 
thority of  the  priests,  their  own  absolute  ignorance, 
and  their  poverty.  As  Maquignaz  said :  "  The  white 
folks  give  employment,  and  so  are  the  masters.  It  is 
the  same  here  as  it  is  everywhere.  Poor  folks  must 
find  some  one  to  pay  them  for  working.  The  whites 
are  the  only  people  who  can  do  that.''  In  the  Bo- 
livian towns  there  are  resident  police,  and  a  small 
body  of  gendarmerie  is  maintained,  which  can  be 
sent  to  refractory  villages  if  necessary;  but  in  a  poor 
country  like  Bolivia  it  is  impossible,  under  present 
circumstances,  to  police  the  scattered  Indian  popula- 
tion. They  must  be  kept  in  order  by  moral  suasion, 
and  can  only  be  coerced  on  rare  occasions.  When 
a  local  disturbance  arises  a  special  force  is  drafted 
in  to  deal  with  the  refractory  village.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  white  people  live  in  some  fear  of  the  Ind- 
ians. When  the  enormous  predominance  of  the 
native  element  is  considered,  such  an  attitude  is  by 
no  means  unnatural;  in  fact,  a  traveller  can  only 
regard  with  astonishment  and  admiration  the  manner 
in  which  the  millions  of  Indians  are  actually  kept  in 

105 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

order  by  the  small  white  population.  It  is  sometimes 
asserted  that  the  Bolivian  Indians  are,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  slaves.  That  may  be  true,  but  if  they 
are  slaves  they  are  certainly  not  enslaved  by  force, 
nor  are  they  kept  to  their  work  by  physical  compul- 
sion. No  attempt  seems  to  be  made  to  raise  them 
in  the  social  scale.  The  present  generation  is  doubt- 
less as  ignorant  as  any  under  the  dominion  of  the 
Incas.  But  in  a  quiet  way  time  passes  and  men  live 
their  lives  not  unhappily,  though  with  occasional 
intervals  of  anxiety.  Of  course,  the  immense  pos- 
sible productivity  of  the  soil  is  mainly  wasted  under 
this  system.  In  some  parts  of  the  country  a  field 
is  only  cultivated  once  in  four  years  and  lies  fallow 
for  the  other  three,  while  in  other  parts  a  turn  comes 
even  less  frequently.  Seeing  the  farms,  as  I  did, 
before  the  commencement  of  spring,  they  appeared 
to  be  of  immense  size,  for  there  was  nothing  to  show 
which  fields  had  been  cultivated  last  year  and  which 
had  lain  fallow;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  efficient 
size  of  a  farm,  in  any  single  year,  leaving  the  orchards 
out  of  count,  is  from  one-third  to  one-eighth  of  its 
apparent  size,  only  a  small  fraction  being  at  any  one 
time  under  cultivation. 

I  was  informed  that  Cotafia  was  once  the  property 
of  an  Irish  lady.  When  I  was  there  it  belonged  to 
Don  Lisimaco  Gutierrez,  at  that  time  Minister  of 
Finance.  His  deputy  was  Sefior  Guillen,  my  host, 
whose  son,  Senor  Ezekiel  Guillen,  agreed  to  accom- 
pany me  with  the  Indians,  at  all  events  up  the  lower 
slopes  of  Illimani.  This  was  very  good  luck.  Word 
was  sent  up  to  a  higher  village  that  suitable  men 

io6 


THE    FERTILE   SLOPES   OF   ILLIMANl 

should  be  sought.  As  nothing  is  done  in  a  hurry 
in  these  parts,  there  was  time  to  spare.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  was  taken  over  the  orchards  of  Cotana  and  shown 
the  great  plantations  of  peach-trees,  all  then  in  blos- 
som, and  the  orchards  of  custard-apples,  granadillas, 
oranges,  lemons,  and  vines.  The  whole  place  had 
been  laid  out  with  an  eye  to  landscape-gardening. 
Charming  arbors  were  erected  at  pretty  points  of  view. 
Under  the  shadow  of  splendid  trees  we  found  a  brick- 
lined  swimming  bath,  excavated  in  the  ground,  with 
a  little  bathing-house  built  beside  it  and  a  streamlet 
flowing  through,  an  ideal  place  for  a  plunge.  I  after- 
wards learned  that  such  a  swimming-bath  is  a  common 
adjunct  to  the  fruit-growing  fincas  of  Bolivia.  Most  of 
the  fruits  are  allowed  to  grow  as  they  please,  with  little 
cultivation,  the  peaches,  for  instance,  not  being  grafted ; 
it  is  only  the  custard-apples  and  the  granadillas  that 
are  sent  to  the  La  Paz  market  for  sale.  Peaches  and 
grapes  are  the  chief  product  of  the  estate.  The  latter 
are  made  into  wine  and  the  former  into  a  very  low 
class  of  spirit,  largely  consumed  by  the  Indians. 
Machinery  worked  by  water-power  for  crushing  the 
peaches  occupies  a  large  shed;  the  still  is  erected  in 
another  close  by. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  out  shooting  apd  made 
a  mixed  bag  of  pigeons  and  partridges;  but  when 
the  heavy  clouds,  which  had  been  covering  Illimani 
and  had  prevented  us  from  even  discussing  a  route 
up  the  mountain,  began  to  break  away,  all  other 
interests  faded  before  the  glorious  vision  that  was 
slowly  unrolled.  At  last  the  great  cliffs,  sharp  ridges, 
and  snow-crest  stood  forth  clear  beyond  the  foreground 

107 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

of  blossoming  peach-trees.  I  thought  I  had  never 
beheld  a  more  beautiful  sight;  but  it  was  far  from 
reassuring  to  a  mountaineer,  for  the  whole  south- 
west side  of  the  mountain  here  disclosed  was  frankly 
unclimbable.  The  upper  snow-field  is  entirely  cut 
off  from  the  lower  slopes  by  a  great  cliff,  quite  vertical 
all  round  the  top  edge,  where  the  glacier-cap  breaks 
away  and  discharges  itself  in  avalanches  at  all  points. 
The  northwest  side  of  the  mountain,  visible  from 
La  Paz,  though  not  easy,  was  certainly  possible  of 
ascent;  this  side  seemed  impossible.  However,  Sefior 
Guillen,  who  had  lived  all  his  life  at  the  mountain's 
foot,  encouraged  me  by  declaring  that  round  the  corner 
of  the  mountain,  to  the  right,  I  should  find  a  very 
different  aspect  of  affairs.  There  was  a  valley  there, 
he  said,  which  seemed  to  lead  very  high,  and  by  it 
he  conceived  the  snow-field  might  be  attained. 

Illimani,  as  we  now  came  to  know  it,  is  a  very  broad 
mountain  mass  with  many  summits,  each  of  which  in 
the  Alps  would  be  considered  a  different  peak.  As 
seen  from  Cotana,  the  highest  point  is  at  the  extreme 
left  end.  It  was  already  evident  that  any  gully  there 
might  be  round  the  corner  to  the  right  would  only 
lead  up  to  some  point  on  the  upper  snow-field  two 
or  three  miles  away  from  the  true  summit.  I  pointed 
this  out  to  Guillen,  and  he  acknowledged  that  it  was 
true;  but,  in  his  view,  as  long  as  one  got  on  to  any 
part  of  the  top,  what  more  could  one  want? — right- 
hand  end  or  left-hand  end,  it  was  all  one — nor  did 
he  at  first  grasp  the  idea  that  there  was  anything 
to  be  gained  by  reaching  the  mountain's  very  top. 
I  foresaw  that,  however  easy  the  gully  might  be,  this 

io8 


THE    FERTILE    SLOPES   OF    ILLIMANI 

question  of  distance  would  be  the  great  difficulty  of 
the  climb ;  but  there  was  now  no  option,  as  the  whole 
intervening  face  was  frankly  inaccessible.  If  the  as- 
cent was  to  be  made  from  Cotafia  at  all  it  must  be 
made  by  the  hidden  gully.  Failing  that,  we  must 
climb  by  one  of  the  northwest  glaciers  visible  from  La 
Paz.  It  was  not  reassuring  to  observe  that  much  new 
snow  had  recently  fallen,  and  that  the  winter  snow 
still  lay  down  to  a  low  level.  From  a  climbing  point 
of  view  the  mountain  was  only  just  beginning  to  come 
into  condition.  What  I  had  yet  to  learn,  however, 
was  that  in  the  high  regions  of  Bolivia  winter  snow 
is  brought,  in  the  long  dry  months  of  July  and  June, 
to  a  degree  of  hardness  seldom  paralleled  in  other 
mountain  ranges,  while  in  summer  all  the  snow  that 
falls  remains  soft  and  rotten.  The  clouds,  having 
once  departed,  returned  no  more  that  day.  A  night 
of  bright  moonlight  followed,  in  which  the  mountain 
shone  like  silver,  with  every  detail  almost  as  clearly 
visible  as  in  sunshine. 

On  the  4th  of  September  young  Sefior  Guillen  es- 
corted his  guests  and  us  to  the  higher  farm  of  Caim- 
baya  (11,800  feet).  It  was  a  delightful  ride  up  a  good 
path,  which  now  crept  beneath  overarching  shrubs, 
now  plunged  into  delicious  dells,  now  boldly  circled 
round  broad  open  slopes,  or  mounted  steeper  inclines 
by  rapid  zigzags.  The  scenery  of  the  green  alp, 
sloping  up  to  rocky  walls  and  ridges  with  high  snows 
beyond,  had  quite  a  Swiss  character.  The  farm- 
house of  Caimbaya  was  a  very  simple  two-roomed 
affair,  standing  beside  a  walled  court-yard  with  four 
eucalyptus-trees  growing  in  the  midst,   the  highest 

109 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

trees  of  any  size  on  the  mountain.  The  Indian  village 
was  picturesquely  grouped  round  a  church  on  a 
knoll,  backed  by  Illimani's  splendid  cirque.  Paro- 
quets flew  about  in  chattering  flocks,  and  so  did  the 
beautiful  little,  pigeons  which  exist  in  such  multi- 
tudes in  this  neighborhood.  The  manager  of  the 
farm,  Jose  Amestoy  by  name,  was  a  most  intelli- 
gent and  kindly  fellow.  Guillen  said  that  he  was 
of  Indian  blood;  if  so,  he  is  proof  of  the  capabilities 
of  Aymara  Indians  for  civilization.  He  was  a  skilful 
mechanic,  a  good  sportsman,  and  had  a  better  under- 
standing of  the  geography  of  the  country  than  almost 
any  one  else  I  met.  He  was  well  read,  considering 
his  opportunities,  and  knew  the  legends  of  his  own 
people.  He  had  practical  knowledge  of  the  mineral- 
ogy of  the  neighborhood.  He  could  understand  a 
map,  had  a  good  general  idea  of  the  different  countries 
of  the  world,  and  was  so  far  acquainted  with  modern 
inventions  as,  for  instance,  to  have  heard  of  photog- 
raphy in  natural  colors,  and  to  be  capable  of  under- 
standing the  process  by  means  of  glass  screens  of 
three  primary  colors. 

Desirous  of  not  wasting  time,  I  immediately  sent 
the  two  guides  off  towards  the  precipitous  face  of 
the  mountain  to  see  whether  they  could  find  any  direct 
way  up,  while  I  climbed  a  detached  hill,  named  the 
Place  of  Flies,  from  the  summit  of  which  a  good  general 
view  might  be  expected.  The  ascent  was  made  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  and  well  repaid  the  trouble.  It  led  me 
through  the  village  and  the  higher  fields,  and  then  up 
grazing  lands  all  scored  with  ancient  tracks.  Obvi- 
ously this  was  land  that  had  been  trodden  by  human 

no 


THE    FERTILE    SLOPES   OF   ILLIMANI 

feet  for  generations  and  centuries.  There  were  traces 
of  old  irrigation  aqueducts  no  longer  used,  and  count- 
less ancient  terraces,  while  on  the  actual  summit 
of  my  hill  were  the  foundations  of  ruined  buildings 
and  numerous  graves,  some  recently  excavated. 
From  this  commanding  eminence  the  whole  basin 
of  Cotaiia  was  in  full  view,  and  the  hollow  of  the 
long  La  Paz  Valley  sweeping  in  a  great  curve  round 
the  mountain's  foot;  beyond  arose  the  barren  slopes 
stretching  up  and  up  to  the  desert  hills  fringing  the 
high  Bolivian  plateau.  Southward  stretched  away 
the  lower  continuation  of  the  great  Cordillera,  which 
rises  beyond  Illimani  to  one  more  snow  peak,  the 
"Three  Crosses,''*  and  then  stretches  away  in  steeply 
foreshortened  perspective  as  a  range  of  bare  rocky 
peaks,  with  slopes  of  barren  debris  reaching  nearly 
up  to  their  summits.  Between  the  top  of  Illimani 
and  the  bottom  of  the  La  Paz  Valley  the  long  slopes 
were  divided  into  two  great  grassy  basins,  like  the 
upper  parts  of  funnels,  each  narrowing  below  into 
a  gorge.  I  stood  between  these  two  great  basins  on 
the  hill-top,  so  that  when  I  faced  the  mountain  one 
of  them  was  on  my  right  hand  and  the  other  was  on 
my  left.  The  basin  of  Cotafia  was  the  one  to  the 
right,  and  by  that  we  had  come  up;  to  the  left  was 
the  basin  and  valley  of  Salapampa,  by  which  we  after- 
wards commenced  our  descent.  The  little  depression 
between  my  hill  and  Illimani  was  the  pass  we  rode 
over  when  returning  to  La  Paz. 
As  to  the  route  up  Illimani,  nothing  was  to  be  learned 

*0r  "  Five  Crosses."     I  heard  both  names  used. 
Ill 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

from  this  point  of  view.  I  was  merely  confirmed 
in  the  conclusion  come  to  at  Cotaiia,  that  there  was 
no  probability  of  success  in  an  attempt  to  ascend  by 
the  cliff,  a  confirmation  which  the  guides  enforced 
when  they  came  back  to  me  late  at  night.  Their 
story  was  that  they  had  crossed  the  little  pass  I  have 
just  referred  to,  and  had  traversed  up  towards  a  gap 
in  one  of  the  side  ribs,  which  they  had  reached  with 
some  difficulty.  Passing  round  this  rib  they  came, 
to  their  astonishment,  on  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  village, 
with  burial  places  and  some  abandoned  terraced  fields 
and  broken  aqueducts.  They  said  the  only  way  to 
reach  this  village  was  by  a  quite  difficult  scramble. 
Higher  up,  they  said,  the  rocks  were  cut  away  into  a 
cliff  which  was  overhung  at  the  top  by  the  perpen- 
dicular edge  of  the  upper  snow-field,  and  even  if  the 
rocks  could  be  climbed  it  would  be  impossible  to  sur- 
mount the  last  ice- wall. 


CHAPTER  X 
ILLIMANI:    THE   LOWER  SLOPES 

NEXT  morning  (September  5th)  all  was  ready  for 
our  final  start.  Only  four  Indians  could  be  per- 
suaded to  come  with  us ;  but  they  sufficed,  and 
we  rode  away  in  good  spirits.  For  an  hour  or  two  the 
ascent  led  up  old,  well-trodden  paths,  among  shrubs, 
and  then  over  a  tawny  green  alp.  The  mules  soon  gave 
evidence  of  suffering  from  the  thinness  of  the  air ;  they 
halted  at  frequent  intervals,  and  all  behaved  alike, 
taking  several  short,  quick  breaths  in  rapid  succession, 
then  three  or  four  slow,  deep  ones,  after  which  they 
were  ready  to  go  on  again.  Exactly  such  I  have 
found  to  be  the  manner  in  which  a  man  recovers  him- 
self from  special  exertion  at  high  levels.  If  at  any 
moment  one  has  put  forth  an  unusual  effort,  an  over- 
mastering giddiness  attacks  the  head;  one  is  com- 
pelled to  halt  and  take  a  series  of  very  quick  breaths. 
The  giddiness  passes,  and  with  three  or  four  long 
breaths  a  normal  speed  of  respiration  is  arrived  at. 
The  paroxysm  of  discomfort  being  removed,  one  can 
then  go  forward  leisurely  on  one's  way. 

The  topography  of  Illimani  is  so  complicated  that, 
at  the  risk  of  repetition,  I  must  describe  more  par- 
ticularly the  route   which   we   were   taking.     When 
we  were  on  the  summit  of  the  Place  of  Flies  the  pre- 
H  113 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

vious  day,  the  mass  of  the  mountain  rose  before  us 
in  a  wide  diff;  the  right-hand  end  of  the  mass  was 
in  the  nature  of  a  great  buttress  of  rock  culminating 
in  a  rocky  peak  which  hid  the  rest  of  the  ridge  abutting 
on  the  mountain  itself.  The  highest  point  of  this 
ridge  is  the  snow-peak  I  afterwards  climbed  and  named 
the  ''Pico  del  Indio/'  Behind  this  buttress — that 
is  to  say,  farther  on  roimd  it  to  my  right — lay  the 
gully  so  often  referred  to  and  up  which  our  route  ulti- 
mately went.  The  proper  right  or  southwestern 
side  of  this  gully  was  formed  by  the  buttress  I  have 
just  mentioned;  its  left  or  northeastern  side  consisted 
of  a  great  wall  of  rock,  some  two  or  three  miles  in 
length,  above  which  were  visible  the  seracs  or  broken 
icy  edge  of  a  glacier,  which  I  called  the  Caimbaya 
Glacier.  It  stretched  to  the  crest  of  the  Cordillera 
south  of  the  high  peaks  of  Illimani,  and  was  separated 
from  all  those  peaks,  and  the  snow-field  supported 
by  them,  by  the  Pico  del  Indio.  At  its  lower  end  the 
Caimbaya  Glacier  is  discharged  by  ice-avalanches 
over  the  wall  of  rocks  into  the  gully,  and  these  ava- 
lanches reform  below  into  a  relatively  small  snout, 
actually  situated  in  the  gully.  Formerly  the  glacier 
descended  to  a  much  lower  level,  and  its  ancient  mo- 
raines may  still  be  traced  almost  down  to  the  village 
of  Caimbaya.  It  retreated  stage  by  .stage,  and  left 
a  series  of  other  terminal  moraines  at  different  alti- 
tudes, many  still  quite  distinct. 

The  grassy  slopes  up  which  we  rode  were  the  slopes 
at  the  foot  of  the  great  buttress,  and  I  was  informed 
by  the  intelligent  manager  of  Caimbaya  that  this 
was  the  way  taken  by  M.   Wiener  on  the  occasion 

114 


*     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


ILLIMANI:  THE  LOWER  SLOPES 

of  his  attempt  on  the  19th  of  May,  1877;  he  hkewise 
informed  me  that  M.  Wiener  and  his  Indians  chmbed 
the  actual  rocks  of  the  buttress,  and  that  some  of  them 
reached  the  rocky  peak  which  was  visible  from  all  parts 
of  the  Cotana  Valley.  If  this  account  is  correct,  that 
rocky  peak  must  be  the  Pic  de  Paris,  but  M.  Wiener's 
published  description,  though  I  am  unable  to  under- 
stand the  whole  of  it,  seems  to  me  to  imply  that  he  went 
up  the  gully  rather  than  the  ridge,  and  climbed  the 
rock-wall  pretty  much  where  we  climbed  it;  but  what 
he  did,  having  arrived  at  the  snow-field  above,  what 
peak  he  chose  and  how  he  got  up  it,  I  am  altogether 
unable  to  ascertain.  It  seems  certain  that  a  high 
elevation  was  arrived  at,  and  I  hope  that  at  some 
future  time  it  will  be  possible  to  say  exactly  where 
that  elevation  was  situated. 

In  various  places  the  dry  grass  showed  signs  of 
having  been  burned.  I  afterwards  discovered  that 
the  habit  of  the  Bolivian  highlanders  is  to  burn  por- 
tions of  the  upper  alp  every  year  on  St.  John's  Day, 
an  occasion  of  great  festivity,  when  all  the  villagers 
turn  out  and  fire  the  grass  in  mutual  emulation.  An 
hour  and  a  half's  slow  riding  brought  us  to  a  flat 
plateau,  where  the  Indians  suggested  that  we  might 
camp.  In  fact,  an  hour  and  a  half's  work  was  about 
their  idea  of  the  amount  we  could  reasonably  expect 
them  to  do  in  a  day.  The  proposal  not  being  favorably 
entertained,  we  went  on,  and  were  driven  by  the  form 
of  the  hill-side  to  swerve  to  the  right,  where  the  only 
possible  line  of  advance  was  by  a  narrow  foot-path 
along  the  side  of  an  acequia  or  irrigation  canal, 
doubtless  of  very  ancient  date  but  still  kept  in  good 

115 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

repair.  On  the  water  brought  by  this  canal  the  farm 
of  Caimbaya  entirely  depends.  The  canal  was  some 
eighteen  inches  wide  by  perhaps  a  foot  deep,  so  that 
the  volume  conveyed  by  it  was  not  very  great.  Imag- 
ine, therefore,  our  surprise  when  we  discovered  that 
it  practically  conveyed  the  whole  of  the  drainage  of 
the  great  Caimbaya  glacier.  We  afterwards  found  by 
observation,  all  along  the  Cordillera  from  Illimani 
away  to  Sorata,  that  the  amount  of  water  yielded 
by  the  Andean  glaciers  is  extremely  small,  the  very 
largest  of  them  never  yielding  during  the  months 
I  was  in  the  country  a  drainage  stream  of  anything 
but  the  most  exiguous  dimensions.  The  fewness 
of  ice-avalanches  that  fall  from  the  ^erac-edged  cliffs 
of  Illimani  and  the  other  mountains  is  likewise  prob- 
ably due  to  the  same  cause,  the  fact  being  that  here, 
as  on  Mount  Kenya,  in  Equatorial  Africa,  the  melting 
snow  and  ice  of  the  glaciers  is  absorbed  into  the  air 
by  evaporation  instead  of  flowing  away  in  the  form  of 
water.  During  the  rainy  season,  the  real  summer 
of  Bolivia,  avalanches  may  be  more  frequent,  and  the 
snow  may  melt  with  more  rapidity;  but  in  the  spring 
months — August,  September,  and  October — very  little 
melting  seems  to  take  place. 

A  brief  inspection  sufficed  to  show  that  it  would 
be  quite  impossible  for  the  mules  to  accompany  us 
farther.  Argentine  mules,  driven  by  such  an  arriero 
as  we  had  on  Aconcagua,  might  have  been  brought 
along,  but  Bolivian  mules  are  far  less  skilful  and  their 
arrieros  are  less  daring.  Here,  accordingly,  the  loads 
were  deposited  on  the  ground  and  the  beasts  of  burden 
sent  away. 

ii6 


ILLIMANI:    THE    LOWER   SLOPES 

Trouble  with  the  Indian  porters  now  began.  There 
were  four  of  them,  and  there  w^ere  eight  loads;  it  was 
necessary,  therefore,  to  make  double  journeys.  They 
were  slower  even  than  Baltic  coolies  in  loading  up, 
and  they  were  equally  anxious  to  halt  every  few  yards 
of  the  way;  while,  as  they  cared  nothing  about  us 
and  were  comparatively  indifferent  to  money,  our 
means  of  urging  them  on  were  restricted.  At  any 
moment  they  might  have  thrown  down  the  loads  and 
left  us  in  the  lurch.  It  was  only  the  presence  of  Guillen, 
who  could  speak  their  abominable  language,  that 
enabled  us  to  persuade  them  to  advance  at  all.  The 
canal  proved  to  be  boldly  engineered  across  what 
was  in  places  a  sheer  cliff ;  the  path  beside  it  was  often 
completely  encumbered  with  shrublike  growths  just 
coming  into  leaf.  It  led  for  about  a  mile  round  the 
remainder  of  the  buttress,  and  so  conducted  us  to  the 
foot  of  our  gully.  Here  a  broad  slope,  perhaps  a 
couple  of  miles  wide,  stretched  steeply  up  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountain,  narrowing  as  it  rose.  We 
mounted  it  some  500  feet,  already,  in  our  untrained 
condition,  conscious  of  the  enervating  effect  of  the 
diminished  atmospheric  pressure.  Unfortunately,  the 
Indians  refused  this  last  ascent,  and  we  were  obliged 
to  return  and  camp  at  the  level  of  the  head  of  the 
canal,  on  a  soft  patch  of  grass  among  a  picturesque 
group  of  bowlders,  the  altitude  being  about  14,000  feet. 

Next  day  we  only  succeeded  in  pushing  camp  2000 
feet  higher,  such  was  the  dilatoriness  of  the  porters. 
The  way  led  up  slopes  of  tussocky  grass  and  then 
up  the  crest  of  an  old  lateral  moraine.  All  suffered 
greatly  from  the  altitude,  much  more  indeed  than  two 

117 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

or  three  days  later  we  suffered  upon  higher  levels. 
Lack  of  condition  had  something  to  do  with  this,  but 
still  more  I  think  the  fact  that  we  were  in  one  of  those 
enclosed  positions  which  seem  always  to  be  more 
trying  at  high  levels  than  are  open  snow-fields  or 
even  broad  walls  of  rocks.  Some  excitement  was 
caused  by  the  sight  of  eight  mountain-deer,  to  which 
we  gave  pursuit,  armed  with  a  shotgun  and  a  re- 
volver. They  headed  up  the  gully  on  one  side  of 
the  moraine;  we  stalked  them  by  slowly  scrambling 
up  the  other  side.  Finding  that  they  were  pursued, 
instead  of  taking  to  the  rocks  and  going  upward, 
as  chamois  would  have  done,  they  turned  back  near 
the  top  of  the  glen.  One  of  them  passing  us  at  close 
range  was  easily  laid  low.  With  a  rifle  we  might 
have  secured  two  or  three  others,  for  their  pace  was 
slow  and  they  seemed  bewildered  at  being  caught 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  gully.  Evidently  they  are 
not  to  be  regarded  as  good  climbing  animals.  The 
Indians,  who  were  too  lazy  to  hurry  with  the  loads, 
were  glad  enough  to  watch  us  stalk;  they  left  the 
luggage  scattered  about  on  the  hill-side  and  hurried 
up  to  see  the  sport.  Many  hours  afterwards  they 
brought  our  goods  together,  just  in  time  for  camp 
to  be  pitched  beside  the  moraine  a  little  before  sunset. 
On  the  7th  the  ascent  of  the  gully  was  continued 
by  mounting  along  the  crest  of  the  moraine  beside 
the  glacier's  snout.  The  splendid  rocks,  furrowed 
by  ice  couloirs  and  crested  with  glittering  seracs,  were 
on  our  right  hand  and  the  ridge  of  the  Pic  de  Paris 
on  our  left.  The  view  was  thus  very  restricted  in 
width,  but  backward,  from  the  elevation  now  attained, 

118 


THE   FLANK    OF    ILLIMANI 


ILLIMANI:  THE  LOWER  SLOPES 

we  overlooked  a  great  area  wherein,  all  day  long, 
we  watched  a  sea  of  clouds  that  swept  up  the  La  Paz 
Valley  from  the  hot  eastern  regions,  hiding  the  lower 
levels  from  our  sight  and  almost  but  never  quite  en- 
veloping us.  Such  cloud  effects,  of  which  during 
the  next  three  days  we  beheld  many  examples,  were 
magnificent.  Out  of  the  white  sea  there  mounted, 
under  the  uplift  of  hot  air  currents,  great  towers  of 
cloud,  which  rose,  like  the  smoke-discharge  of  vol- 
canoes, high  into  the  air,  then  nodded  forward  and 
overhung  as  the  upper  winds  took  them.  Huge  caves 
and  cloud  avenues  were  thus  formed,  wherein  dark- 
blue  shadows  gathered,  and  here  and  there  in  their 
deep  recesses  some  high  mountain-top  would  per- 
haps peep  forth,  a  mere  foundation-stone  to  a  gigantic 
mist  castle. 

During  the  day  the  Indians  were  more  trouble- 
some than  ever;  they  refused  to  carry  any  but  the 
lightest  loads,  so  that  three  journeys  were  necessary 
instead  of  two.  It  was  only  by  descending  and  re- 
ascending  with  them  that  we  were  able  to  get  them 
to  work  at  all.  Ultimately  they  raised  our  things, 
not  more  than  6oo  or  700  feet,  to  a  point  close  to  the 
foot  of  that  part  of  the  wall  of  rocks  on  our  right  where 
a  practicable  line  of  ascent  seemed  to  be  situated,  and 
where,  against  the  sky-line,  was  no  longer  a  line  of 
impending  seracs  but  only  a  snow-slope,  safe  and 
apparently  easy  to  mount.  The  camping-place  was 
within  300  or  400  feet  of  the  top  of  the  gully's  debris 
slope,  in  a  situation  dangerously  liable  to  be  swept 
by  falling  stones.  I  undertook  to  dig  out  a  tent  plat- 
form under  the  shelter  of  a  huge  lump  of  rock  stuck 

119 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

in  the  slope,  to  set  up  the  tents  and  prepare  food,  while 
the  Alpine  guides,  each  carrying  a  heavy  sack,  climbed 
the  rock  wall  to  the  snow  above.  They  returned 
with  the  assurance  that  the  rocks  could  be  climbed 
without  great  difficulty.  They  had  experienced  much 
fatigue  in  climbing,  as  I  had  in  digging  out  the  tent 
platform,  but  their  energies  had  been  well  invested, 
while,  in  Maquignaz's  opinion,  mine  had  been  wasted. 
"You  have  dug  out  the  tent  platform,''  he  said,  ''in 
exactly  the  wrong  place.  As  you  have  put  it,  the 
tent  will  not  be  protected  from  falling  stones,  but 
rather  more  exposed  to  them  than  if  it  were  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  couloir.  We  must  begin  all  over  again 
and  make  a  new  platform,  closer  beneath  the  big 
rock.''  We  accordingly  set  to  work  once  more  ex- 
cavating with  the  ice-axes  and  building  a  wall  of 
support  with  the  larger  fragments  loosened.  It  was 
a  toilsome  business.  All  work  this  day  was  toilsome, 
and  even  the  smallest  exertion  necessitated  an  interval 
of  repose.  Pellissier,  who  was  physically  the  strongest 
of  us,  when  sent  off  to  fill  a  small  bucket  with  water 
from  a  rivulet  a  hundred  yards  away,  found  it  neces- 
sary to  rest  four  or  five  times  in  that  little  distance. 
Yet  our  altitude  was  only  about  16,500  feet  above 
sea-level. 

As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  the  next  day  (Septem- 
ber 8th)  was  to  be  a  fete  at  the  village  of  Ussi  near 
Caimbaya.  The  Indians,  all  agog  to  be  present  on 
that  occasion,  left  us  as  soon  as  they  had  brought 
the  baggage  up  to  the  tent ;  but  they  promised  to  send 
up  others  to  take  their  place.  Late  in  the  evening 
there  did  arrive  an  old  man  and  a  boy,  who  stated 

120 


INDIAN    PORTERS 


FROM    THE    TOP    OF   THE    ROCKS,   ILLIMANI 


^»:a^^ 


UNIVERSITY 


OF 


fOB]^ 


ILLIMANI:  THE  LOWER  SLOPES 

that  others  had  agreed  to  follow  them  on  the  following- 
morning.  The  boy,  a  round-faced,  laughter-loving 
fellow,  was  more  like  a  Burmese  than  an  Aymara 
Indian;  and  the  old  man  had  a  long,  tragic  face, 
strangely  like  the  late  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  They 
had  never  slept  in  a  tent  in  their  lives,  and  both  were 
delighted  with  the  experience.  The  boy  laid  himself 
down  under  his  poncho  and  a  mackintosh  sheet,  with 
his  head  sticking  out  of  the  tent  door,  and  giggled 
with  delight  for  hours. 


CHAPTER  XI 
ILLIMANI:    THE   ROCK-WALL 

THUS  far  there  had  been  no  real  cHmbing  to  do, 
but  only  grass,  moraine,  and  fatiguing  debris 
slopes  to  ascend,  nor  would  it  have  been  difficult 
with  good  porters  to  reach  this  point  in  one  day  from 
the  farm.  Now,  however,  more  serious  work  was  at 
hand,  so  that  the  question  of  weather  became  all- 
absorbing.  At  La  Paz  I  had  been  told  that  the  month 
of  September  was  usually  a  month  of  continuous  fine 
weather,  which  might  even  last  on  far  into  Novem- 
ber. But  experience  has  taught  me  that  few  people 
dwelling  in  a  mountain  country  pay  any  attention  to 
the  weather  on  the  mountains.  If  they  have  clear  skies 
and  absence  of  rain  at  the  place  of  their  abode,  it  does 
not  occur  to  them,  even  when  they  see  clouds  on  the 
mountains,  that  the  weather  may  be  very  bad  there. 
So  I  was  disappointed  but  not  surprised  to  find  that 
though  La  Paz  enjoyed  a  large  measure  of  fine  weather 
in  September  and  October,  it  was  very  different  at 
levels  where  a  mountaineer  works.  The  weather 
on  Illimani  had  been  unsettled  all  the  time  I  was  in 
the  country  till  the  day  we  left  Cotafia;  then  it  had 
grown  fine,  and  though  there  had  been  plenty  of  clouds 
sweeping  over  daily  from  the  hot  east,  the  days  we 
had  spent  in  the  gully  would  have  been  favorable  for 

122 


ILLIMANI:    THE    ROCK-WALL 

climbing.  Now,  however,  a  change  seemed  to  be 
at  hand.  Clouds  gathered  earlier  each  day  and  the 
upper  level  of  the  great  cloud-bed  had  a  tendency  to 
rise.  It  was,  therefore,  essential  to  prepare  for  spend- 
ing several  days,  if  need  be,  on  the  snow-field  above 
the  rock-wall,  so  that  a  considerable  amount  of  pro- 
visions had  to  be  carried  up. 

With  the  dawn  came  no  porters.  We  packed  up 
camp,  dividing  the  baggage  into  two  parts,  one  to 
be  left  behind  on  the  platform,  the  other  to  come  with 
us.  The  latter  contained  two  tents,  warm  fur  sleep- 
ing-bags of  reindeer-skin,  cooking  apparatus,  pro- 
visions, and  instruments.  We  waited,  but  not  a 
human  being  hove  in  sight.  At  nine  o'clock  we 
decided  to  proceed  with  only  the  man  and  boy  who 
had  spent  the  night  with  us.  All,  therefore,  had  to 
carry  a  more  or  less  heavy  load,  and  our  progress 
was  correspondingly  slow.  Sefior  Guillen  faithfully 
adhered  to  us  and  shouldered  his  burden  like  a  man. 
Twenty  minutes  were  spent  in  crossing  the  gully 
diagonally  over  the  loose  stones  and  reaching  the 
foot  of  the  rocks.  The  Indians  regarded  the  cliff 
with  dismay,  for  it  was  undoubtedly  steep,  and  soon 
proved  to  be  far  from  easy.  The  whole  of  this  part 
of  the  ascent  is  about  equal  in  difficulty  to  that  of 
the  ordinary  routes  up  any  of  the  harder  Zermatt 
mountains,  such  as  the  Matterhorn,  Gabelhorn,  or 
Dent  Blanche.  Zigzag  we  went,  following  conven- 
ient ledges.  Every  few  yards  the  Indians  were  for 
turning  back,  but  the  rope  was  put  on  and  they  were 
included  in  the  string.  This  gave  them  some  little 
confidence  till  a  more  difficult  scramble  came,  when, 

123 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

with  one  consent,  they  cast  themselves  loose  and 
sat  down.  I  leaned  forward  from  the  top  of  the  diffi- 
culty and  held  forth  small  silver  coins  to  them,  to 
come  up  and  possess.  The  bait  was  taken,  and  things 
were  easier  for  a  few  yards  above;  then  another  diffi- 
culty came,  and  was  surmounted  by  the  same  rudi- 
mentary expedient.  Thus,  by  the  attraction  of  money 
and  by  hauling  on  the  rope,  we  engineered  our  timid 
porters  slowly  upward.  Far  below,  the  four  Indians 
could  now  be  seen  coming  up,  who  were  to  have  been 
our  porters.  But  when  they  perceived  where  we  were 
they  shouted  something  to  our  men,  turned  tail,  and 
disappeared.  After  about  two-thirds  of  the  wall  had 
been  surmounted  there  came  yet  another  steep,  indeed, 
almost  perpendicular,  chimney,  such  as  we  had  al- 
ready negotiated ;  but  this  one  was  thickly  embellished 
with  ice.  It  proved  to  be  the  last  hard  place,  but  noth- 
ing would  induce  the  Indians  to  attempt  it.  Their 
cup  of  dread  had  been  steadily  filling;  here  it  over- 
flowed. They  dropped  their  loads,  cast  off  the  rope, 
and  fled.  Two  hours  later  the  screams  of  joy  which 
announced  their  arrival  at  our  deserted  platform  came 
wafted  up  to  us,  along  with  the  booming  of  the  guns 
fired  off  for  the  fete  at  Ussi. 

The  morning  had  been  fine,  but  clouds  now  en- 
veloped us,  and  glad  we  were  of  it,  for  the  heat  of 
the  sun  was  most  debilitating.  By  hauling  the  loads 
up  with  ropes  in  difficult  places,  and  by  carrying  them 
in  easy  ones,  we  came  out  at  last  on  the  snow  near  the 
proper  right  margin  of  the  Caimbaya  glacier,  with  a 
low  rock-wall  close  on  our  left  hand.  On  the  snow 
beside  these  rocks,  at  a  height  of  about  18,500  feet, 

124 


A    HEAVY   LOAD 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


ILLIMANI:    THE    ROCK-WALL 

we  pitched  the  tents  with  sohd  satisfaction.  The 
outworks  of  the  mountain  fortress  were  now  passed; 
it  only  remained  to  dehver  the  assault  on  the  final 
peak.  Noon  came  when  we  reached  the  camping- 
place,  and  the  sea  of  cloud  lay  far  below  us.  For  out- 
look our  camp  was  admirably  planted  near  the  edge 
of  a  lofty  mountain-shelf,  with  a  short  snow-slope  in 
front,  and  then  the  sudden  plunge  of  the  cliff.  We 
overlooked  the  low  range  of  mountains  that  divides 
the  La  Paz  Valley  from  the  high  Bolivian  plateau, 
and  saw  the  great  desert,  ruddy,  sunny,  and  arid, 
stretching  away  to  an  immense  distance,  with  the 
faint  cones  of  the  volcanoes  of  the  Western  Cordillera 
(among  which  Sajama  was  easily  identifiable)  rising 
beyond  it.  There  was  a  marvellous  play  of  color 
upon  the  desert,  which  seemed  almost  afire  with  sun- 
light, glimmering  through  the  dusty  atmosphere. 
The  great  depression  of  the  La  Paz  Valley  swept  round 
to  the  left  under  its  flood  of  cloud,  dividing  us  alike 
from  the  desert  and  from  the  continuation  of  the  Cor- 
dillera. 

Once,  no  doubt,  the  Cordillera  was  continuous 
from  Illimani  southward.  By  some  means  an  im- 
mense gap,  which  sinks  to  a  level  of  3000  or  4000 
feet  above  the  sea,  has  been  cut  through  it,  so  that 
the  La  Paz  River,  which  rises  near  the  base  of  Ca- 
caaca,  on  the  west  slope  of  the  range,  and  flows  down 
through  the  town  of  La  Paz  and  by  the  way  we  had 
come,  receiving  all  the  tributary  streams  from  the 
west  slope  of  the  mountains  as  far  as  Illimani,  ulti- 
mately passes  right  across  the  Cordillera  by  this  im- 
mense gap,  and,  flowing  away  eastward,  drains  into 

125 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

a  tributary  of  the  Amazon,  and  thus  empties  into 
the  Atlantic.  How  was  this  gap  produced?  How 
were  the  waters  that  ought  to  have  gone,  and  once 
went,  to  the  Pacific,  captured  for  the  Amazon  and  the 
Atlantic?  Three  answers  to  this  question  have  been 
suggested.  According  to  one,  the  great  inland  sea, 
whereof  Titicaca  remains  a  shrunken  remnant,  at 
some  moment  of  unusual  fulness  burst  its  way  through 
the  range  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  whose  char- 
acter is  not  further  particularized.  This  explanation 
is  unsatisfactory,  for  there  is  no  way  by  which  a  lake 
can  burst  through  a  mountain  range  or  any  great 
obstacle  except  by  overflowing  the  lip  of  the  cup  and 
cutting  down  a  channel  through  the  obstruction  as 
it  overflows.  For  this  to  have  happened  there  must 
have  existed  between  Illimani  and  the  mountain  of 
the  Three  Crosses  a  low  depression  no  higher  than 
the  possible  former  level  of  the  waters.  Here  a  water- 
fall or  cataract  must  have  been  formed,  which  poured 
over  the  main  watershed  of  the  continent,  and,  grad- 
ually cutting  it  down,  worked  its  way  backward  to 
the  present  edge  of  the  La  Paz  basin.  It  is  scarcely 
possible  to  invent  a  less  probable  explanation. 

Another  suggestion  is  that,  before  the  Andes  were 
crinkled  up  from  the  flat  earth,  there  already  existed 
a  river,  occupying  approximately  the  track  of  the 
present  La  Paz  River,  which,  as  the  range  was  slow- 
ly elevated,  continued  to  flow  in  its  old  bed,  and  kept 
cutting  that  bed  down  and  so  maintaining  its  ex- 
istence, while  the  range  continued  to  rise  on  either 
hand.  It  is  said  that  there  is  geological  proof  in 
the  Alps  of  the  persistence  of  pre-existing  rivers  flow- 

126 


PREPARING    TO    CAMP    ON    II.LIMANI 


*'^.     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


ILLIMANI:   THE    ROCK-WALL 

ing  across  the  range,  which  maintained  themselves 
throughout  the  whole  period  of  its  elevation.  How 
this  can  have  been  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand,  for 
an  examination  of  the  rivers  in  Patagonia  and 
the  conterminous  portion  of  Chile,  where  earth- 
movements  are  now  taking  place,  shows  that  a  very 
slight  earth-movement  is  sufficient  to  break  a  river 
in  half  and  cause  the  waters  of  its  upper  part  to  flow 
in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  previously  fol- 
lowed by  them  Such  an  explanation  seems  most 
inappropriate  to  this  trans-Andean  gorge,  for  the 
upper  part  of  it  is  cut  out  of  the  great  alluvial  de- 
posit, evidently  fallen  into  the  lake  from  the  slopes 
of  the  range  itself,  which  could  not  have  been  de- 
posited if  the  lake  were  at  that  time  being  drained 
away  to  the  eastward.  It  is  obvious  that  the  river 
gorge  had  only  invaded  this  alluvial  deposit  since 
the  drjdng  up  of  the  lake ;  that  is  to  say,  that  the  gorge 
has  eaten  its  way  backward  from  many  miles  below 
La  Paz  almost  to  the  foot  of  Cacaaca  in  quite  recent 
times.  If  we  presuppose  the  existence  of  an  ancient 
river  that  crossed  what  is  now  the  Andes  before  the 
range  was  elevated,  it  must  have  been  a  very  short 
torrent,  whose  head  was  somewhere  about  the  village 
of  Huarikana,  and  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  a 
little  stream  not  more  than  thirty  miles  in  length 
should  have  been  strong  enough  to  keep  open  a  de- 
pression right  across  that  gigantic  range  during  the 
period  of  its  elevation  from  an  altitude  of  3000  to  over 
20,000  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  true  explanation,  as  I  think  every  person  much 
acquainted  with  mountain  gorges  will  agree,  is  that 

127 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  mountain  range  was  once  continuous  right  across 
from  lUimani  to  the  Three  Crosses,  and  that  the  normal 
processes  of  denudation  acted  upon  it  as  they  have  acted 
upon  the  Himalayas  and  all  other  mountain  ranges. 
The  east  side  of  the  range  was  always  more  precipit- 
ous than  the  west,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  great 
damp  area  of  the  Amazonian  forest  stretches  away 
from  its  foot  and  pours  moisture  against  the  mountain- 
wall  on  that  side.  The  vapors  condense  into  clouds, 
clouds  fall  in  rain  and  snow,  and  the  eastern  face  of 
the  Andes  is  thus  very  rapidly  denuded.  On  the  west 
the  amount  of  precipitation  is,  and  probably  for  a 
very  long  period  has  been,  much  less  than  on  the 
east;  while  the  form  of  the  country,  with  its  succes- 
sion of  ranges  of  hills,  which  have  risen  from  the 
sea  with  the  rising  of  the  land,  or  been  generated 
by  volcanic  ejection,  has  hindered  the  denuding  proc- 
esses, so  that  the  Cordillera  Real  throughout  its  whole 
length  has  been  more  vigorously  broken  down  on 
the  east  side  than  it  has  been  on  the  west.  In  con- 
sequence of  the  long  action  of  these  forces  the  eastern 
slope  is  almost  a  cliff,  while  the  western,  from  snow- 
level  down  to  the  plateau,  consists  of  long,  gentle 
slopes  thickly  covered  with  debris. 

A  river  whose  upper  waters  are  supplied  by  a  steep 
mountain  must  continually  eat  its  way  back  into  the 
mountain.  If  the  mountain  rises  to  the  level  of  per- 
petual snow  the  action  of  eating  back  proceeds  still 
more  rapidly,  for  the  rocks  are  disintegrated  by  frost, 
cast  down  by  avalanches,  and  if  they  fall  onto  the 
surface  of  the  glacier  are  carried  forward  by  it  and 
dumped  down  at  its  lower  end,  where,  tumbling  into 

128 


ON    THE    TOP    OF   ILLIMANI 


HIGHEST    CAMP    ON    ILLIMANI 


ILLIMANI:   THE    ROCK-WALL 

the  river,  they  are  rolled  about  and  gradually  reduced 
into  a  form  transportable  by  water.  Rivers  and 
glaciers  thus  eat  their  way  backward,  not  to  any  ap- 
preciable extent  by  grinding  down  their  beds,  but 
by  merely  transporting  the  materials  which  fall  into 
or  onto  them  from  steep  places.  It  follows  that,  other 
things  being  equal,  this  eating-back  action  will  be 
more  vigorous  where  precipitation  is  greatest.  In 
the  case  of  a  big  mountain  range,  precipitation  will 
tend  to  be  greatest  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  highest 
peaks.  It  may  incidentally  happen  that  in  the  same 
neighborhood,  owing  to  the  greater  vigor  of  earth- 
movements,  rocks  may  be  more  faulted  or  liable  to 
fracture.  Thus  it  is  near  the  largest  peaks  that  the 
most  vigorous  eating-back  action  of  rivers  or  gla- 
ciers is  to  be  expected.  Allowing  the  process  of 
eating  back  to  operate  on  a  mountain-range  for  a 
sufficient  length  of  time,  if  it  is  more  vigorous  on 
one  side  of  a  mountain  range  than  it  is  on  the  other, 
it  is  a  mathematical  certainty  that  one  of  the  streams 
will  sooner  or  later  eat  its  way  right  through  the  range, 
just  as  the  La  Paz  River  has  done.  Having  done 
so,  it  will  extend  its  conquest  and  will  capture  the 
waters  from  the  other  side  one  after  another  and  bring 
them  down  to  add  to  its  own  volume. 

This  the  La  Paz  River  has  done;  it  has  cut  its 
way  right  across  the  Cordillera  Real  near  one  of  its 
highest  peaks,  and,  continuing  then  more  slowly, 
yet  with  considerable  vigor  during  the  rainy  season, 
it  has  eaten  its  way  back  and  back,  and  has  captured 
one  stream  after  another  that  formerly  went  into 
the  great  inland  sea.  Every  year  the  upper  edge 
I  129 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

of  its  basin  is  visibly  eaten  away  farther  and  farther, 
and  if  no  earth-movement  occurs  to  disturb  the  proc- 
ess, the  day  is  in  sight  when  it  must  reach  as 
far  back  as  the  position  of  the  waters  of  Lake  Titi- 
caca.  A  similar  process,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see, 
is  going  forward  at  the  north  end  of  the  snowy  range 
near  Mount  Sorata,  where  the  Mapiri  River  is  like- 
wise engaged  in  cutting  its  way  back  through  the 
range,  only  in  this  case  the  process  is  not  so  far  ad- 
vanced and  the  great  alluvial  deposit  has  not  yet  been 
reached.  In  the  Karakoram  Himalayas,  as  I  have 
already  more  than  once  pointed  out,  an  exactly  similar 
action  has  taken  place,  the  successive  ranges  being 
there  cut  through  by  the  Indus  and  its  tributaries, 
in  each  case  close  to  the  highest  elevation  of  the  par- 
ticular range.  Here,  again,  it  has  been  suggested 
that  the  river  system  existed  before  the  mountains 
were  elevated. 

Throughout  the  whole  area  of  the  Asiatic  moun- 
tains as  yet  surveyed  —  through  Tibet,  along  its 
southern  edge,  throughout  the  kingdom  of  Kash- 
mir, and  along  the  great  earth  fold  of  the  Hindu  Kush 
— the  phenomena  of  capture  can  be  shown  to  have 
determined  the  course  of  almost  all  the  rivers,  great 
and  small. 

Such  were  the  reflections  that  occupied  my  mind 
as  I  surveyed  the  view  from  our  lofty  perch  while 
the  guides  slept  in  their  tents  after  preparing  and 
consuming  our  mid-day  meal.  Sefior  Guillen,  how- 
ever, finding  himself  in  the  great  snow  world  at  whose 
feet  he  had  been  born  and  brought  up,  could  scarcely 
contain  his  impatience  long  enough  to  halt  and  drink 

130 


ILLIMANI:    THE    ROCK-WALL 

a  bowl  of  soup.  Bred  at  12,000  feet,  he  felt  the  effect 
of  diminished  atmospheric  pressure  less  than  we  did, 
while  his  healthy  farming-life  no  doubt  kept  him 
in  good  condition.  He  seemed  absolutely  to  revel  in 
the  newly  opened  world  of  snow;  he  ran  about  like 
a  chamois  on  glacier  and  rocks,  seemed  anxious  to 
plant  his  foot  on  every  surrounding  eminence,  and 
gazed  about  in  every  direction.  Dangers  did  not 
exist  for  him;  he  smiled  at  our  admonitions,  and 
mocked  at  the  mention  of  hidden  crevasses.  After 
lunch  we  saw  him  no  more  for  hours,  until,  towards 
sunset,  yells  from  the  guides  called  me  forth,  and  I 
beheld  our  companion  calmly  descending  the  glacier 
from  far  above,  straight  towards  a  perfect  labyrinth 
of  crevasses,  open  and  closed  They  hurriedly  put 
on  the  rope  and  went  forth  to  save  him  from  what 
they  considered  certain  destruction,  but  he  bore  a 
charmed  life  and  came  back  in  safety,  wondering 
what  all  the  fuss  was  about. 


CHAPTER  XII 
ILLIMANI:   THE  FINAL  CLIMB 

BEFORE  two  o'clock  the  next  morning  we  had  left 
camp  and  were  winding  our  way  up  in  the  dark- 
ness among  great  yawning  crevasses.     A  single 
candle  in  a  pocket-lantern  was  our  only  light  in  the 
great  solitude  of  the  abode  of  snow.    Ff teen  miles  away, 
across  the  valley  of  the  La  Paz  River,  another  twink- 
ling light  was  visible,   shining  through  the  window 
of   a   remote  farm-house.     That   was   our   sole  link 
with  the  world  of  men.     The  night  was  not  cold  (only 
21°  Fahr.),  but  the  snow  was  hard  as  rock,  and  we 
made  rapid  progress.     Once  Guillen  fell  into  a  cre- 
vasse, but  being  roped,  we  pulled  him  out  unhurt. 
The  stars  were  shining  in  the  clear  sky  and  there 
was  no  trace  of  cloud  to  be  seen,  yet  at  frequent  inter- 
vals weird  flashes  of  electricity  broke  around  us,  un- 
accompanied by  any  sound,  as  though  a  search-light 
had  been  flickered  over  us  from  some  distant  light- 
house.    Whence    these    flashes    came    and    whither 
they   went   I    could   not    perceive.     They   resembled 
rather  an  emanation  from  the  snow-field,  or  a  phos- 
phorescence glimmering  along  its  surface,  come  and 
gone  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.     The  old  moon  rising 
over  the  snow-field  at  length  rendered  the  lantern 
superfluous.     Mounting     steadily    upward     we    ap- 

132 


^    OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


ILLIMANI:    THE    FINAL    CLIMB 

proached  the  water-shed  ridge,  and  two  and  a  half 
hours  from  camp  stood  upon  it,  the  very  crest  of  the 
Cordillera  Real,  and  looked  down  an  appalling  preci- 
pice of  at  least  14,000  feet  into  the  black  depths  of 
some  valley  of  fertile  Yungas.  It  was  still  night. 
Gloom  enveloped  us.  Blanched  snow  and  black 
crags  appeared  dim  and  ghostly  near  at  hand,  but 
the  dim  and  vague  horror  of  that  almost  fathomless 
plunge  into  the  dark  gulf  at  our  feet  was  one  of  the 
experiences  that  it  has  been  worth  living  to  know. 

During  all  this  part  of  our  ascent  there  had  been 
on  our  left  a  great  mountain  exactly  between  us  and 
Illimani;  I  called  it  the  Pico  d^el  Indio,  for  a  reason 
to  be  presently  explained.  We  knew  that  a  snow- 
plateau  lay  between  it  and  Illimani,  and  we  had 
hoped  to  gain  this  plateau  by  passing  round  the 
back  of  the  Pico  del  Indio.  Now,  however,  we  learned 
to  our  regret  that  the  tremendous  Yungas  cliff  ren- 
dered any  such  circumvention  impossible,  while  the 
corresponding  cliff  on  the  Cotafia  side  equally  pro- 
hibited a  turning  movement.  The  intervening  peak 
must  be  climbed  over,  and  we  must  begin  by  going 
up  the  steep  and  narrow  ridge  on  which  we  were 
then  standing — no  easy  matter,  as  we  could  see  even 
through  the  gloom  of  the  night. 

A  boss  of  hard,  transparent  ice,  the  size  and  shape 
of  a  walrus,  stuck  out  of  the  ridge  and  had  first  to 
be  surmounted.  Steps  were  cut  in  it  with  much  de- 
liberation, and  we  raised  ourselves  to  the  crest  above, 
one  foot  over  the  fathomless  precipice,  the  other  on  a 
steep  slope  with  a  gaping  crevasse  a  few  yards  down. 
Slip  which  way  we  might  it  would  be  sudden  destruc- 

133 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

tion,  and  to  slip  was  easy  in  this  darkness  and  cold. 
The  last  stride  was  about  as  theatrical  a  perform- 
ance as  I  can  remember,  for  the  ice  even  in  the  steps 
was  as  slippery  as  a  frozen  pond.  Here  Guillen  de- 
cided to  turn  back.  He  said  his  curiosity  was  satisfied, 
and  he  had  a  pain  in  his  foot.  It  turned  out  to  arise 
from  frost-bite,  for  the  cold  up  here  was  intense,  prob- 
ably twenty  degrees  lower  than  it  had  been  down 
at  camp.  How  Guillen  got  down  alone  I  don't  know, 
but  he  went;  and  he  arrived  the  same  day  in  safety 
at  Caimbaya,  to  our  no  small  relief,  and  advantage 
too,  as  will  appear  Above  the  boss  of  ice  were  steep 
rocks,  up  which  we  felt  our  way  in  the  darkness,  for 
the  moon  was  now  gone  behind  clouds.  Farther  up 
the  ridge  an  enormous  ice  cornice  barred  the  way, 
and  could  neither  be  circumvented  nor  climbed  over, 
as  dawn  enabled  us  to  ascertain.  There  was  no  alter- 
native but  to  cross  the  whole  steep  south  face  of  the 
Pico  del  Indio  to  a  gap  in  the  ridge  on  the  other  side, 
by  which,  as  we  knew,  access  to  the  high  snow-plateau 
could  be  attained.  The  face  was  a  great  slope  of 
ice,  fortunately  covered  by  a  thin  layer  of  well-frozen 
snow  that  adhered  firmly  to  it,  and  into  which  steps 
could  be  cut.  But  for  this  film  of  snow  the  traverse, 
which  occupied  over  two  hours,  would  have  taken 
four  or  five  hours,  and  been  infinitely  dangerous  into 
the  bargain. 

The  day  was  at  hand.  All  along  the  crest  of  the 
mountains  and  clouds  in  the  east  flamed  the  crim- 
son glory  of  the  coming  sun.  The  brighter  illumi- 
nation only  served  to  make  more  plain  the  solem- 
nity  and   splendor   of    our   surroundings.      The   ice 

134 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 
OP     .1 


ILLIMANI:    THE    FINAL    CLIMB 

slope  itself  was  one  of  the  steepest  I  have  ever  stood 
on.  A  few  hundred  feet  below  it  was  cut  off  into 
a  vertical  cliff,  overhanging  in  places,  and  by  its 
feet  lay  the  piled  ruins  of  the  ice  avalanches  which 
often  fall  from  it.  There  must  be  no  slipping  here. 
The  day  increased,  the  sun  came,  and  we  slowly  ad- 
vanced; but  how  slowly  the  distance  diminished  be- 
tween us  and  the  western  ridge  I  cannot  describe. 
Click,  click,  click,  went  the  axe,  hewing  out  a  step 
with  painstaking  care.  Each  had  to  be  large  and 
well-shaped.  It  was  hard  work.  Half-way  across, 
Maquignaz  fell  behind,  and  Pellissier  took  his  place. 
Little  was  said.  The  steps  were  made  as  far  apart 
as  was  safe,  and  the  stride  from  one  to  another  was 
an  effort.  At  last  the  desired  saddle  was  gained, 
and  we  could  throw  ourselves  down  and  rest  awhile, 
more  than  20,000  feet  above  the  sea,  with  the  culmi- 
nating peaks  of  lUimani  now  full  in  sight,  rising  be- 
yond the  snow-plateau,  of  whose  existence  we  had 
been  assured  but  which  we  now  first  saw — a  vast, 
unbroken,  undulating  expanse,  waving  away  to  four 
snow-white  peaks  and  the  saddles  between  them. 
The  highest  peak  was  right  opposite,  and  the  way 
to  it  was  obvious;  we  must  gain  the  saddle  beside  it, 
and  then  follow  a  snow-ridge  to  the  top,  the  saddle 
in  question  being  the  depression  visible  from  La  Paz 
immediately  to  the  left  of  the  highest  summit. 

After  a  few  minutes'  contented  rest  we  descended 
a  gentle  snow-slope  of  about  400  feet  to  the  level  of 
the  plateau.  The  Pico  del  Indio  was  behind  us  and 
Illimani  ahead.  By  rare  luck  the  snow  was  in  good 
condition,  so  that  we  scarcely  sank  into  it  at  all.     Over 

135 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

large  areas  it  was  hard  as  a  wooden  floor.  Now, 
of  course,  we  felt,  as  any  man  must  feel  at  such 
an  elevation,  the  weakening  effect  of  diminished 
atmospheric  pressure.  We  had  no  headaches,  nau- 
sea, running  of  blood  from  nose  and  ears,  or  other 
violent  symptoms,  but  all  were  greatly  reduced  in 
strength.  When  the  long,  slow  ascent  beyond  the 
level  of  the  plateau  began,  the  light  load  that  strong 
Pellissier  had  to  carry  was  almost  too  much  for  him. 
The  remainder  of  the  ascent  was  a  featureless  grind, 
and  all  suffered  severely.  Puffs  of  wind  brought 
occasional  relief  There  was  not  a  crevasse,  scarcely 
an  inequality  of  surface  to  vary  the  way.  The  rounded 
snow  summits  shut  off  distant  views,  and  were  not 
interesting  objects  to  look  at  in  themselves.  After 
three  hours  of  slow,  continuous  plodding,  the  inclina- 
tion ceased,  and  we  stood  upon  a  flat,  wide  saddle, 
from  which  there  fell  away  at  our  feet  the  steep  de- 
scent facing  La  Paz  We  threw  ourselves  down  for 
a  few  moments  to  rest  and  eat.  We  were  nearly  21,000 
feet  above  the  sea.  For  view  there  was  behind  us 
the  great  plateau,  with  snow-ridges  to  left  and  right, 
leading  up  to  white  peaks;  ahead,  a  tumbled  cataract 
of  ice  seen  through  gaps  of  changeful  clouds,  with 
now  and  then  a  glimpse  over  the  wide  Bolivian  desert 
far  away  to  north  and  west. 

The  ascent  recommenced.  Slowly,  very  slowly, 
we  mounted  the  wide  and  easy  snow-ridge,  conscious 
only  of  heart-breaking  toil  and  entirely  possessed 
by  a  fixed  determination  to  get  the  work  done.  The 
lifting  of  each  foot  in  its  turn  was  a  tragic  effort. 
Presently  everything  became  unreal  and  dreamlike. 

136 


ILLIMANI:    THE    FINAL   CLIMB 

I  fell  into  a  semi-comatose  condition,  but  plodded  on 
all  the  same.  Twice  I  came  to  myself  with  a  start; 
I  had  been  walking  in  something  very  like  sleep.  One 
apparent  summit  was  succeeded  by  another,  but  the 
true  one  came  at  last.  ''Monsieur,  k  vous  la  gloire,'' 
said  Maquignaz,  as  he  moved  aside  for  me  to  stand 
first  upon  the  highest  point  of  snow.  The  altitude 
was  21,200  feet.*  It  was  half  an  hour  before  noon. 
The  moment  was  one  of  satisfaction,  in  that  our  toil 
ceased ;  but  we  had  no  sense  of  triumph,  nor  was  there 
breath  enough  left  in  any  of  us  for  an  exclamation 
of  joy  in  the  hour  of  victory.  Nothing  was  said  or 
done  for  several  minutes ;  we  just  sat  down  and  rested. 
But  five  minutes  later  we  had  recovered,  and  were  as 
comfortable  as  at  sea-level,  so  long  as  we  neither  moved 
nor  attempted  to  do  anything,  though  I  had  lost  my 
voice  and  the  others  were  quite  hoarse.  The  cane  flag- 
staff we  had  brought  up  in  sections  was  planted  in 
the  snow  and  a  little  Union  Jack  set  waving;  but, 
alas!  none  but  ourselves  could  see  it,  for  most  of  the 
lower  regions  were  buried  in  a  sea  of  clouds,  and  La 
Paz  in  particular  was  hidden.  A  flag-staff  erected 
in  snow  will  not  stand  many  hours.     This  one  fell 

*  The  measurements  of  the  highest  point  of  lUimani  are  as  follows  : 


Pentland 2i,i8l 

Pissis 21,355 

Reiss 21,040 

Minchin 21,224 

Reck 21,339 

Conway 21,015 

Mean. 21,192 


THE   BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

l)efore  clear  weather  returned,  and  never  showed  it- 
self through  the  telescope  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers  at 
La  Paz,  who  looked  out  for  it  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

Notwithstanding  the  fog  below,  the  view  was  im- 
pressive, for  we  stood  out  in  clear  air  and  brilliant 
sunshine,  with  towering  clouds  and  snowy  peaks 
near  at  hand.  The  peaks,  draped  in  broken  ice, 
were  magnificent.  The  southward  continuation  of 
the  Cordillera  likewise  lifted  itself  into  sight,  but  of 
Mount  Sorata  and  the  northern  range  we  saw  noth- 
ing, while  only  patches  of  the  Bolivian  plain  were 
seen  through  gaps  in  its  nebulous  covering.  The 
descent  was  easy  enough  till  we  came  to  the  foot  of 
the  Pico  de  Indio  and  had  to  reascend.  There  I 
thought  my  heart  would  burst,  so  excessive  was  the 
toil.  Twelve  short  steps  and  a  halt,  twelve  more 
and  another  halt,  and  so  on,  with  deep  breathing 
betweenwhiles  to  recover  the  power  of  motion.  It 
was  a  dreadful  hour,  but  it  came  to  an  end,  and  we 
could  throw  ourselves  down  at  last  on  the  mound 
of  rock  by  the  little  snow-saddle  and  cast  a  last  look 
back  upon  our  conquered  giant. 

My  hand  touched  something  soft  and  clammy 
lying  on  the  rock  beside  me.  What  could  there  be 
of  that  sort  in  such  a  place?  I  picked  it  up.  It  was 
a  rotten  piece  of  Indian  woollen  cord,  swollen  to  the 
thickness  of  one's  wrist.  Maquignaz,  to  whom  I 
gave  it,  unfortunately  lost  it  on  the  way  down.  Tra- 
dition at  Caimbaya  asserts  that  many  years  ago  an 
Indian  desperately  dared  to  invade  the  secret  places 
of  the  great  god  Illimani.     He  was  last  seen  from 

138 


ILLIMANI    FROM   THE  COHONI   ROAD 


ILLIMANI    AND   THE   PICO    DEL   INDIO    FROM   ABOVE   THE   HIGHEST   CAMP 


ILLIMANl:    THE    FINAL    CLIMB 

below,  seated  on  this  point  where  now  we  sat.  He 
never  came  back  to  the  abodes  of  men,  for  the  god 
turned  him  into  stone.  That  there  is  some  founda- 
tion for  the  tale  is  proved  by  our  discovery  of  the  piece 
of  rope;  so  I  named  the  peak  beside  this  place  Pico  del 
Indio. 

We  decided  to  complete  the  descent  by  another 
and  more  direct  route,  going  straight  down  the  long 
slope  at  our  feet  instead  of  crossing  over  the  face 
and  doubling  back  down  below.  The  slope,  which 
was  of  ice,  covered  with  good  snow,  was  steep,  but  less 
steep  than  the  one  we  had  crossed,  and  the  snow  was 
fairly  thick  and  firm  We  went  straight  down,  one 
only  moving  at  a  time,  an  axe  always  firmly  planted 
into  the  slope  and  the  rope  paid  out  round  it.  It  seemed 
as  though  the  bottom  would  never  come,  so  long  and 
featureless  was  the  sloping  way.  The  snow  became 
softer,  and  we  began  to  fear  that  it  might  bodily  slide 
off  the  ice  and  take  us  down  in  an  avalanche;  but 
it  held.  Another  trouble  ahead  was  the  great  berg- 
schrund,  or  crevasse,  at  the  foot  of  the  slope.  We  could 
see  that  there  was  one,  but  of  its  size  or  where  to  cross 
it  we  could  see  nothing,  for  the  upper  edge  hid  the 
lower.  By  good  luck  we  struck  it  at  a  point — and, 
as  it  turned  out,  almost  the  only  point — where  it  could 
be  jumped.  Then  we  were  on  leveller  snow,  strewn 
with  ruins  of  ice  avalanches.  We  picked  a  way 
through  them  and  in  and  out  of  larger  crevasses  than 
I  have  elsewhere  seen.  The  bridges  over  them  were 
great  hill-sides  in  themselves.  By  winding  about, 
the  labyrinth  was  at  last  threaded,  though  not  with- 
out many  errors  aiid  returns.    More  than  once  I  feared 

139 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

that  the  night  would  overtake  us  before  we  had  found 
a  way  through.  Clouds,  like  mountains  upon  moun- 
tains, were  gathering  about  us,  casting  gloom  upon 
the  tortured  ice-torrent  in  whose  thralls  we  were  en- 
meshed. Thunder  pealed  forth  to  right  and  left,  and 
the  echoes  rolled  about  in  the  deep  solitude  of  the 
hollow  places  of  the  hills  At  length  all  difficulties 
were  left  behind,  the  main  glacier  was  reached,  and 
the  morning's  upward  tracks  rejoined.  At  half-past 
five  we  were  in  camp,  and  at  six,  it  being  already 
night,  I  was  fast  asleep  in  the  sack  of  reindeer-skin 
which  had  so  often  sheltered  me  in  Spitsbergen  against 
Arctic  cold. 

Next  morning  (September  loth)  found  us  hungry, 
for  we  had  eaten  little  on  the  previous  day,  but  other- 
wise well  content  with  the  world  and  with  ourselves. 
It  is  true  we  were  painfully  sunburned;  even  Pellis- 
sier's  seasoned  hide,  proof  against  reflected  sunlight 
from  European  snows,  had  not  been  able  to  resist 
the  tropical  sunshine.  All  of  us  were,  moreover, 
almost  rent  asunder  by  a  violent  whooping-cough. 
It  proved  to  be  a  mere  symptom  of  altitude,  for  we 
lost  it  on  descending  to  Caimbaya.  It  returned  again 
whenever  w^e  approached  the  20,000  feet  line,  whether 
on  Sorata  or  afterwards  on  Aconcagua.  None  of 
my  party  experienced  it  in  the  Himalayas,  nor  have 
I  ever  read  or  heard  of  it  as  experienced  by  other  climb- 
ers at  high  altitudes. 

The  sun  rose  in  great  splendor  over  a  calm,  level 
sea  of  cloud,  stretching  away  from  our  feet  like  a 
shining  silver  pavement.  Snow  had  fallen  on  the 
tents  in  the  night,  but  there  had  only  been  eleven 

140 


ILLIMANI:    THE    FINAL    CLIMB 

degrees  of  frost  and  no  wind.  The  group  of  the  Three 
Crosses  stood  out  hke  a  violet  island  from  the  brilliant 
sea  of  clouds.  There  were  no  Indian  porters  to  help 
us  with  the  baggage,  but  we  had  found  a  fragment  of 
paper  in  the  tent,  containing  the  information  that 
Guillen  had  passed  the  evening  before,  on  his  way 
down  to  the  farm,  and  that  men  would  be  sent  up  to 
meet  us  next  morning.  We  knew  that  they  would 
never  climb  the  wall  of  rocks,  so  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  pack  up  the  baggage  and  get  it  down  as 
best  we  could.  We  bundled  as  many  things  as  possible 
into  one  of  the  big  reindeer  sleeping-bags,  and  wrap- 
ping the  others  around,  corded  it  up  with  a  mountain 
rope  and  wheeled  it  like  a  barrel  to  the  edge  of  the 
cliff.  We  chucked  it  over  just  where  an  ice  couloir 
stretched  down  to  a  snow-slope  that  almost  reached 
the  level  of  the  next  tent  platform.  The  bundle  began 
to  roll,  and  then  to  take  longer  leaps,  till  about  half-way 
down  it  burst  open  like  a  rocket  and  scattered  our 
possessions  in  every  direction.  The  sections  of  tent- 
poles  flew  about  in  wild  confusion,  and  so  did  the 
cooking  apparatus  and  every  other  small  object; 
but  they  got  down  hill,  all  the  same,  and  came  to 
rest  scattered  about  upon  the  snow -slope,  where  we 
ultimately  recovered  them.  Little  permanent  injury 
had  been  done;  only  the  fur  sleeping-bag  was  rent 
open,  and  would  require  to  be  well  clouted  before  it 
could  be  used  again. 

Arrived  at  the  tent  platform,  we  were  glad  to  find 
that  all  the  baggage  we  had  left  upon  it  had  been 
carried  down.  Here  again  was  a  note  from  th"  ad- 
mirable Guillen,  stating  that  we  might  be  s'  re  of 

141 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Indians  coming  to  this  point,  though  he  anticipated 
trouble  in  persuading  them,  as  the  great  fete  con- 
tinued. We  lay  for  a  long  time  in  the  sunshine,  en- 
joying the  pleasant  breeze  and  lunching  on  the  con- 
tents of  some  self-cooking  tins — that  is  to  say,  tins 
containing  Irish  stew,  with  a  little  spirit-lamp  so 
attached  that  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  cut  the  tin  open, 
tear  off  the  soldered  ribbon,  apply  a  match  to  the  wick, 
and  wait  ten  minutes  for  your  hot  lunch.  Ultimately, 
leaving  the  rest  of  our  baggage  on  this  tent  platform,. 
we  ran  down  to  the  foot  of  the  gully,  where  we  met 
two  Indians  coming  up,  and  saw  two  others  farther 
down  on  the  way.  Traversing  the  path  by  the  canal, 
we  came  out  on  the  little  flat  meadow  and  found  our 
mules  awaiting  us. 

Before  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon  we  reached 
Caimbaya,  and  met  the  Indian  manager  in  the  haci- 
enda yard  among  his  mules  and  horses,  sheep,  pigs, 
poultry,  dogs,  and  wondrously  tame  birds.  He  rushed 
up  to  greet  me,  but  suddenly  halted,  crying  out  with 
amazement,  "  Cristo  della  Madonna !  what  boots ! '' 
a  remark  generally  made  to  me  in  one  form  or  another 
by  every  new  acquaintance  on  the  mountain-side. 
In  truth,  the  boots  I  was  wearing  were  boots  indeed. 
The  German  captain  of  the  ship  by  which  I  voyaged 
down  Smyth  Channel  was  never  tired  of  looking  at 
them;  and  when  I  left  the  ship  at  Sandy  Point  he 
shouted  after  me  that,  as  he  would  arrive  in  London 
before  I  did,  he  would  see  that  a  dry-dock  should  be 
ready  for  their  reception.  Mountaineering  readers 
may  remember  that  our  greatest  difficulty  in  the  high 
ascents  we  made  in  the  Himalayas  was  the  inten- 

142 


I 


THK    DESCENT    OF    ILLIMANI 


OF  THE     "^ 

^N/VERSITY 

OF 
sSlL/FORNlL 


ILLIMANI:    THE    FINAL    CLIMB 

sity  of  the  cold  before  sunrise,  which  took  all  sensa- 
tion from  our  feet  and  brought  us  to  the  verge  of  frost- 
bite; so  that  we  found  it  necessary  to  give  up  all  at- 
tempts at  climbing  at  high  levels  before  the  break  of 
dawn.  Even  then,  on  Pioneer  Peak,  every  member 
of  our  party  came  so  near  to  being  frost-bitten  that  we 
were  obliged  to  stop,  take  off  our  boots,  and  rub  one 
another's  feet  for  half  an  hour  to  avoid  that  calamity. 
A  similar  difficulty  was  experienced  by  Mr.  Vines 
on  the  upper  slopes  of  Aconcagua.  I  was  therefore 
determined  to  avoid,  if  possible,  this  particular  trouble, 
for  to  be  reduced  to  wait  till  the  coming  of  the  sun  be- 
fore commencing  to  ascend  is,  especially  in  the  tropics, 
to  reduce  the  climbing-day  to  very  brief  dimensions. 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  in  Norway  a  pair  of 
goat-hair  stockings  of  immense  thickness,  almost  as 
thick  as  one's  little  finger,  such  as  are  worn  by  ski 
runners  in  the  cold  winter  of  the  North.  These 
stockings,  with  a  leather  covering,  suffice  to  keep 
the  feet  warm  in  very  great  cold;  but  at  high  alti- 
tudes, owing  to  the  diminished  vitality  from  which 
all  men  must  suffer,  the  body  is  far  less  able  to  resist 
cold  than  it  is  at  sea-level  in  Arctic  winters.  Not 
satisfied,  therefore,  with  these  stockings,  I  wore  within 
them  a  pair  of  Shetland  wool  stockings  and  a  thin 
pair  of  socks  besides.  It  is  not,  therefore,  surprising 
that  enormous  boots  were  necessary  to  cover  feet  thus 
enveloped.  The  boots  I  used  were  of  the  kind  de- 
scribed in  my  Himalaya  book,  made  at  Zermatt,  with 
very  thick  soles,  three  thicknesses  of  leather  over  the 
toes,  two  over  the  body  of  the  foot,  and  one  over  the 
ankle.     Such  foot-gear  was,  of  course,  very  weighty; 

143 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

but  I  became  accustomed  to  it,  and  never  regretted  it, 
for  in  the  result  I  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  that 
entirely  escaped  frost-bite.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  remark  that  every  one  of  us  had  been  severely  sun- 
burned on  lUimani,  though  much  of  the  ascent  had 
been  made  when  the  sun  was  hidden  in  clouds.  If  we 
had  not  noticed  the  fact  ourselves,  the  extraordinary 
eagerness  of  everybody  at  Caimbaya  to  show  us  our 
faces  in  the  looking-glass  would  have  conveyed  the 
information. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
RETURN    TO    LA    PAZ 

IN  descending  the  La  Paz  Valle}^  on  our  way  to  Co- 
tana  we  had  passed,  an  hour  or  so  below  Millocato, 

the  point  of  junction  (named  Esquina  de  Pongo)  with 
the  important  side  valley  that  drains  the  great  Palca 
basin,  intervening  between  Illimani  and  the  basin  of 
La  Paz.  To  this  Palca  Valley  we  shall  hereafter  re- 
turn Our  descent  from  Caimbaya  was  made  by  cross- 
ing below  the  face  of  Illimani  and  going  down  direct  to 
Esquina  de  Pongo,  instead  of  returning  by  Cotana  and 
the  route  of  our  ascent.  Starting  about  8:30  A.  M., 
after  a  good  breakfast,  we  mounted  through  the  village 
of  Caimbaya  to  the  low  grass  pass  already  referred 
to.  It  was  a  glorious  day;  Illimani,  absolutelj^  clear 
from  base  to  summit,  stood  up  before  us,  a  splendid 
mountain.  Below  its  cliff  lay  in  green  fertility  the 
wide  cirque  that  forms  the  head  of  the  Salapampa 
Valley.  Our  way  was  to  lead  us  a  little  distance 
down  to  the  farm  of  Atahuaillani,  and  then,  by  a 
wide  descending  circuit,  round  under  the  face  of  Il- 
limani and  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  Salapampa 
Valley.  If  we  had  been  better  informed  we  might 
indeed  have  ascended  the  opposite  slope  of  the  valley, 
and  so,  passing  the  farm  of  Tanimpata,  have  gained 
a  second  grass  pass  immediately  at  the  foot  of  the 

K  145 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

great  south  areta  of  Illimani's  highest  peak.  Cross- 
ing one  or  more  grassy  ribs  of  the  mountain,  we  should 
have  descended  in  a  couple  of  days  into  the  Palca 
Valley,  and  so  by  the  Alto  de  Animas  have  gained 
La  Paz  by  a  very  interesting  route.  In  fact,  this  line 
of  travel  is  one  that  any  future  visitor  to  these  moun- 
tains should  by  no  means  fail  to  traverse.  Half  an 
hour  from  Caimbaya  we  stood  at  the  door  of  the  little 
farm-house  named  Atahuaillani.  We  knew  that  Mr. 
Bandolier,  whom  I  may  best  describe  as  the  Flinders 
Petrie  of  prehistoric  Peru  and  Bolivia,  was  making 
this  farm  his  temporary  abode,  while  excavating 
ancient  villages  and  burying-places  on  the  flanks 
of  lUimani  for  the  New  York  Museum.  During  the 
course  of  our  preliminary  explorations  we  had  come 
across  several  such  burying-places  on  the  actual 
summits  of  the  lower  hills,  and  had  found  two  ruined 
villages  and  their  abandoned  but  still  recognizable 
terraced  fields  in  a  position  most  difficult  of  access, 
just  at  the  foot  of  a  glacier,  proof  of  the  pressure  of 
population  in  pre-Columbian  days,  rendering  neces- 
sary the  cultivation  of  every  yard  of  land  that  could 
be  reclaimed  and  watered.  Even  the  position  of  the 
canals  that  brought  glacier-water  to  the  fields  could 
be  traced. 

As  we  entered  the  court-yard  of  the  farm  Mrs.  Ban- 
dolier was  upon  the  steps.  She  greeted  us  heartily 
and  went  to  call  up  her  husband,  for  it  was  still  very 
early.  Both  united  to  insist  that  we  should  spend  a 
few  hours  with  them,  and  I  was  nothing  loath.  Seldom 
in  my  experience  has  time  passed  more  delightfully. 
I  wish  I  could  make  this  excellent  couple  visible  to  the 

146 


RETURN   TO    LA    PAZ 

reader.  The  Museum  for  which  they  work,  and  have 
worked  for  many  years,  may  well  be  proud  of  them. 
Their  lives  are  absolutely  devoted  to  the  science  they 
pursue.  Cut  off  from  the  world,  without  servant  or 
companion  of  any  sort,  isolated  in  the  midst  of  super- 
stitious Indians,  who  regard  their  work  as  dangerous 
to  the  peace  of  the  neighborhood,  and  expect  daily 
vengeance  to  descend  upon  their  villages  from  the 
ghosts  of  outraged  ancestors,  they  pursue,  neverthe- 
less, the  even  tenor  of  their  research,  helping  one 
another  in  every  detail,  each  the  other's  only  friend. 
To  converse  with  such  brave,  alert,  intelligent  friends 
about  their  work,  about  the  country,  the  natives, 
the  mountains  they  know  and  love  so  well,  was  a 
rare  privilege. 

Mrs.  Bandolier  cooked  our  breakfast  on  a  petroleum 
stove  (and  an  excellent  breakfast  it  was)  while  her 
husband  answered  my  volley  of  questions.  ''  Were  the 
ancient  dwellers  on  Illimani  Incas?''  I  ignorantly 
asked.  "  I  don't  know.  I  have  no  theories.  I  know 
nothing  about  Incas.  All  I  know  is  that  throughout 
Peru  and  Bolivia  there  were  ancient  inhabitants,  for 
whom  I  have  no  name — prehistoric  Peruvians,  if  you 
like.  These  people  left  remains  which  exist,  and  de- 
scendants— the  Indians  we  see  about  us.  The  remains 
show  that  there  were  great  varieties  of  local  habit 
and  custom — whether  the  result  of  racial  variety  or 
merely  of  different  conditions  of  life,  I  don't  know. 
What  we  do  is  to  investigate  the  remains  and  dis- 
cover facts;  we  record  the  facts  and  leave  inferences 
and  generalizations  to  other  people.  There  are  not 
facts  enough  discovered  yet  to  warrant  very  general 

147 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

inferences.  Some  day  there  may  be,  but  it  will  need 
much  more  excavation  first.  Our  investigation  is 
two-fold.  We  dig  into  the  ground,  and  we  dig  into 
the  minds  of  the  living  people.  The  Indian  to-day 
is  very  little  altered  by  European  influence.  He 
carries  a  thin  varnish  of  Christianity,  but  below  it 
are  all  the  pre-Columbian  beliefs  and  superstitions 
practically  entire.  The  difficulty  is  to  get  the  people 
to  talk.  For  example,  the  Indians  here  worship 
lUimani  as  a  god ;  but  they  would  not  acknowledge  to 
you  that  they  did  so.''  Thus  he  talked  for  four  hours, 
from  the  wealth  of  his  experience,  and  if  he  slackened 
for  a  moment,  another  question  would  release  a  new 
fund  of  reminiscence  and  laboriously  acquired  knowl- 
edge. I  was  surprised  to  find  him  full  of  admiration 
for  the  ancient  Spanish  laws  dealing  with  the  treat- 
ment of  Indians.  I  gathered  that  the  failure  was  in 
administration,  not  in  legislation.  "Anyway,''  he 
said,  "the  general  ignorance  about  Spain  and  her 
colonies  in  the  old  days  is  colossal." 

Bidding  farewell  to  our  kind  hosts,  we  followed 
one  of  the  grandest  view-commanding  mule-tracks  I 
ever  saw.  It  descended  amid  an  ever  -  increasing 
wealth  of  vegetation,  circling  round  a  vast  basin  in 
the  hills,  just  below  Illimani's  southern  cliff.  Our 
peak  was  always  visible  far  aloft,  for  the  day  was 
perfectly  fine.  It  juts  up  like  a  tower  from  this  side, 
apparently  inaccessible  save  by  wings.  Shrubs  just 
bursting  into  flower,  and  some  of  most  fragrant  scent, 
over-arched  the  track,  and  the  high  snows  glimmered 
through  them.  Water  tumbled  and  sang  down  the 
gullies   between    the   arms   of   the   mountains.     We 

148 


V     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 
J^ALIFOB,^ 


RETURN   TO    LA    PAZ 

crossed  the  tracks  of  one  or  two  mud  avalanches. 
The  swing  round  of  the  cirque  carried  us  farther  and 
farther  out  from  the  bosom  of  IlHmani.  On  a  Httle 
bare  field,  beaten  flat  lil^e  some  dancing-floor  in  a 
Himalayan  village,  a  party  of  natives  in  gay  attire 
danced  round  and  round  in  a  circle  to  the  simple 
music  of  pipe  and  drum — a  little  air  endlessly  re- 
peated : 


A  gentle  breeze  hummed  in  the  tall  dry  tussocks 
of  grass.  Thus  at  the  end  of  our  encircling  traverse 
we  gained  a  promontory  at  the  mouth  of  the  cirque 
and  had  one  look  back  from  the  top  of  a  granite  mound, 
that  seems  as  though  it  had  been  placed  where  it  is 
in  order  to  command  the  most  majestic  view  possible 
of  the  great  mountain.  So  the  heathen  inhabitants 
thought,  for  on  it  are  ruins  of  what  may  have  been 
an  open-air  temple,  and  there  are  graves  in  and  about 
the  sacred  enclosure.  After  a  brief  halt  we  turned 
the  corner,  and  our  mountain  was  hidden  from  view. 
It  is  probably  this  last  view  of  it  that  I  shall  longest 
remember — the  Pic  de  Paris  on  our  right,  the  summit 
on  the  left,  and  the  great  curving  cliff  between,  reach- 
ing up  at  one  point  almost  to  the  top  of  the  Pico  del 
Indio. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  the  upper  snow-field 
is  mainly  drained  away  by  avalanches  that  fall  over 
this  cliff.  Most  of  them  descend  to  a  low  level,  where 
they  rapidly  melt  away,  but  the  avalanches  that  fall 

149 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

from  between  the  Pico  del  Indio  and  the  Pic  de  Paris  re- 
form below  into  a  small  glacier  which  there  fills  a  moun- 
tain cirque.  The  great  crevasses  which  we  found  so 
difficult  to  thread  on  our  descent  from  the  Pico  del  Indio 
were  situated  just  above  this  cirque  and  were  formed  by 
the  ice  giving  way  and  preparing  to  fall  over  the  cliff. 
It  was  easy  to  see  from  the  point  where  now  we  stood 
that  the  cliff  above  the  little  glacier  was  being  rapidly 
eaten  away  into  the  mountain.  Not  only  does  frost 
constantly  peel  off  the  face  of  the  rock,  but  the  enormous 
avalanches  that  fall  down  it  smash  and  abrade  the 
surface,  so  that  the  face  of  the  cliff  is  continually  planed 
away.  The  debris  that  fall  from  it  would  pile  them- 
selves up  at  its  foot  were  it  not  for  the  little  glacier  below, 
which  receives  them  on  its  surface  or  into  its  mass,  and 
gradually  carries  them  down  and  dumps  them  over 
its  foot  in  the  form  of  terminal  moraine.  The  glacier, 
small  though  it  be,  thus  becomes  a  potent  agent  in 
breaking  down  the  hill-side,  for  by  preventing  the  for- 
mation of  a  debris  slope,  which  would  protect  and  ulti- 
mately cover  up  the  cliff,  it  enables  frost  and  avalanches 
to  continually  eat  away  the  cliff  itself  and  so  to  carry 
it  back  and  back,  just  as  the  cliff  over  which  Niagara 
falls  is  continually  cut  back  by  action  of  the  water.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  the  process  has  been  going  on  for  a 
long  time  and  that  to  it  the  formation  of  the  great  cliff 
of  Illimani  is  due,  for  not  so  long  ago  a  glacier  occupied 
the  whole  of  the  basin  round  whose  sides  we  had  been 
riding,  the  path  being  carried  entirely  over  moraines  or 
ice -worn  rocks.  By  this  means  the  ridge  that  joined 
the  Pic  de  Paris  to  the  Pico  del  Indio  has  been  broken 
through,  so  that  now  a  part  of  the  snow-field,  which 

150 


RETURN   TO    LA    PAZ 

once  drained  down  the  Caimbaya  glacier,  is  drained 
by  avalanches  into  the  Salapampa  basin/'' 

From  the  mountain-temple  a  long,  dull  descent  fol- 
lowed, with  nothing  in  sight  but  low  desert-hills  to 
the  west,  furrowed  by  torrents  descending  in  the  rainy 
season  into  the  La  Paz  Valley.  It  was  a  view  of  the 
unclothed  world.  Just  at  sunset  we  turned  a  corner 
and  looked  down  upon  the  strangely  picturesque  Indian 
town  of  Cohoni — a  large  and  tightly  packed  assemblage 
of  mud-houses  roofed  with  thatch,  planted  one  above 
another  on  the  steep  hill-side.  The  streets  proved  to 
be  narrow,  precipitous,  and  intricate.  It  was  hard  to 
find  the  way  through,  and  we  were  in  a  hurry,  for 
night  was  at  hand  and  we  still  had  far  to  go.  Beyond 
the  town  came  apparently  endless  steep  zigzags,  deep- 
ly worn  into  the  hill-side  by  the  tread  of  countless 
generations.  Thousands  of  feet  below  we  saw,  by 
the  last  gleam  of  daylight,  the  fields  of  the  farm  where 
the  night  was  to  be  spent.  Darkness  rapidly  came  on. 
The  crest  of  Illimani,  again  in  view,  palely  glimmered 
after  all  else  was  shrouded  from  sight.  We  had  to  dis- 
mount from  our  mules  and  feel  for  the  way.  There 
was  no  moon.  The  bright  evening  star  alone  g^v^e 
light.  The  air  grew  sensibly  warmer  and  thicker  as 
we  descended.  Dense  vegetation  flanked  and  roofed 
the  way.  A  tall  broom  with  a  large  blossom,  common 
in  South  America,  filled  the  air  with  rich  perfume.  It 
gave  place  to  high  canes,  and  I  know  not  what  other  trop- 

*  This  is  a  concrete  instance  of  the  invasion  of  a  longitudinal  by  a 
side  glacier  in  the  manner  explained  in  my  paper  "  On  an  Explora- 
tion, in  1897,  of  Some  of  the  Glaciers  in  Spitsbergen, '-  Geographical 
Journal,  vol.  xii.,  p.  144.     August,  1898. 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

ical  vegetation.  The  night  grew  blacker  and  blacker. 
We  could  not  even  see  our  hands  before  us.  There  was 
a  sound  of  water  below.  By  grovelling  on  the  ground 
and  feeling  we  discovered  that  the  path  was  again 
following  the  edge  of  an  abyss.  I  walked  along  it, 
tapping  with  a  stick  as  a  blind  man  taps  the  edge  of  a 
curbstone.  Presently  I  felt  wood  and  found  a  bridge, 
and  beyond  it  the  continuing  path.  At  last  we  came 
among  barking  dogs,  and  lights  of  a  hacienda  glim- 
mering through  trees.  The  name  of  the  place  was 
Taguapalca.  Its  owners  extended  to  us  a  kind  hospi- 
tality. 

Before  pursuing  our  way  next  morning  we  were 
conducted  over  the  orchards,  where  coffee  grows  and 
fruits  of  every  sort  for  the  La  Paz  markets — figs,  grapes, 
oranges,  olives,  custard  -  apples,  granadillas,  lemons, 
peaches,  bananas,  chestnuts,  and  many  other  kinds 
which  the  reader  might  not  recognize  by  name.  They 
grew  in  rich  profusion,  but  are  cultivated  with  little  art, 
nor  was  there  any  of  the  tidiness  we  are  accustomed  to 
associate  with  good  gardening.  The  effect,  however,  was 
most  picturesque,  thanks  to  nature's  profusion,  and  to 
the  splendid  hills,  peeping  in  through  every  gap  in  foli- 
age and  flowers.  In  a  corner  of  the  garden  was  a  grove 
of  giant  olive-trees,  the  largest  I  ever  saw,  casting  so 
dense  a  shade  that  the  group  of  seats  beneath  them  form 
a  cool  retreat  in  the  hottest  weather.  Near  at  hand  is 
the  usual  swimming-bath,  filled  by  a  stream  of  ruddy 
water.  A  pretty  summer-house  stands  on  a  jutting 
promontory  with  vertical  sides,  pushing  forth  from  the 
trees.  It  commands  a  strange  view  of  the  desert  hills 
and  valleys  by  which  this  oasis  is  surrounded.     Filling 

152 


RETURN    TO    LA    PAZ 


our  saddle-bags  with  fruit  for  the  way,  we  bade  adieu 
to  our  kind  hosts  and  set  forth  before  the  sun  was  high. 
Descending  over  the  debris  of  many  mud  avalanches, 
we  soon  entered  the  La  Paz  Valley  at  Esquina  de  Pongo, 
and  thence  rode  back  to  the  city  by  the  way  we  had 
come. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
PREPARING    TO   ASCEND  SORATA 

THE  ascent  of  lUimani  fortunately  accomplished, 
there  was  in  our  minds  but  one  idea — to  attack  the 
other  and  probably  higher  great  mountain  of  the 
Bolivian  Cordillera  Real,  Mount  Sorata.  I  call  it  Mount 
Sorata  because  that,  among  other  names,  is  sometimes 
applied  to  it,  and  is  the  most  convenient  designation. 
Sorata,  as  we  shall  see,  is  the  name  of  a  town  at  its 
foot,  and  the  whole  mountain  mass  at  that  end  of  the 
Cordillera  may  be  well  enough  thought  of  as  the  moun- 
tain of  Sorata.  Regarded  from  a  European  Alpine  point 
of  view,  Mount  Sorata  is  a  group  of  peaks,  like  the 
Mont  Blanc  group,  each  of  which,  if  much  attention 
were  given  to  the  group,  would  equire  a  name  of  its 
own.  The  natives  in  pre-Columbian  days  had  already 
distinguished  two  of  these  peaks  by  name  and  legend. 
One  was  the  actually  culminating-point,  a  noble  crest  of 
snow.  They  call  it  Ancohuma,  I  am  told ;  the  word  as 
pronounced  to  me  sounded  more  like  ''  Hankuma, ''  but 
I  adhere  to  the  received  spelling.  Mr.  Bandolier  tells 
me  it  should  be  written  Hankouma,  and  that  it  means 
''white  water.''  The  other  and  more  remarkable  peak 
is  a  great  buttress  of  the  former,  not,  in  fact,  quite  so 
lofty,  but,  when  seen  from  Lake  Titicaca  or  from  the 
Sorata  Valley,  far  more   imposing — a  majestic  rock 

154 


PREPARING  TO  ASCEND  SORATA 

tower,  not  unlike  the  Matterhorn,  although  vastly 
greater,  built  up  of  precipitous  dark  cliffs  and  ridges, 
whereon  the  clouds  drift  and  play  in  wonderful  com- 
plexit}^  I  never  saw  a  peak  more  gloriously  decked 
with  clouds  than  was  this  one.  The  Incas,  I  believe, 
worshipped  it  as  a  god,  and  named  it  Illampu.  For 
this  name  many  derivations  have  been  suggested. 
Mr.  Bandolier  says  that  the  name  should  be  written 
Hilampi,  and  that  it  means  ''with  his  brother/'  im- 
plying, quite  correctly,  that  it  is  the  lesser  of  a  pair  of 
peaks.  Padre  Baltasar  de  Salas,  writing  in  1618-1625, 
spells  the  name,  ''Inti-llampu,"  which  means  I  know 
not  what,  but  Inti  is  the  word  from  which  the  name 
Andes  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  corrupted.  Mount 
Sorata  is  popularly  called  Illampu  in  Bolivia  nowa- 
days, and  Ancohuma  is  called  the  south  peak  of 
Illampu.  I  prefer  to  restore  to  the  individual  peaks 
their  proper  designations,  and  to  apply  to  the  whole 
mountain  the  designation  Mount  Sorata. 

When  driving  from  Lake  Titicaca  to  La  Paz  over 
the  high  Bolivian  plateau  we  had  noticed  that  the  most 
promising  way  to  attack  the  peak  was  by  a  glacier  that 
descends  southward  from  Ancohuma,  which  I  after- 
wards named  the  Ancohuma  glacier.  The  lower  part 
of  it  was  apparently  much  crevassed,  but  there  seemed 
to  be  a  high  snowy  plateau  above,  leading  to  the 
foot  of  the  final  peak.  The  peak  itself  was  evidently 
precipitous,  but  we  hoped  it  might  improve  on  ac- 
quaintance; at  all  events,  this  was  the  route  we  de- 
cided to  attempt.  Such  a  decision  is  in  Bolivia  the 
smallest  part  of  a  climber's  trouble.  The  mountainous 
parts  of  the  country,  which  are  almost  exclusively  in- 

155 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

habited  by  Indians,  cannot  be  traversed  in  the  free 
fashion  possible  in  most  mountain  regions.  The  trav- 
ell^  who  went  with  two  or  three  companions,  and  set 
up 'his  tent  wherever  seemed  most  convenient  to  pass 
the  night,  would  be  liable  to  find  himself  raided  by 
Indians,  whose  suspicions,  and  perhaps  terrors,  are 
aroused  by  any  action  on  the  part  of  white  men  to 
which  they  are  not  accustomed.  To  roll  up  a  tent  and 
leave  it  with  other  baggage  indifferently  protected  on  a 
hill-side,  as  in  mountaineering  must  sooner  or  later  be 
done  with  a  heavy  camp,  would  merely  invite  theft. 
Wherever  a  mountaineer  goes  in  the  Bolivian  moun- 
tains his  movements  are  sure  to  be  carefully  watched, 
and  there  is  no  chance  of  his  hiding  his  property  where 
Indians  will  not  find  it.  The  only  way,  therefore,  to 
approach  any  of  the  great  mountains  is  to  do  so  with 
the  assistance  of  some  considerable  body  of  the  natives 
themselves.  All  the  Puna  Indians  belong  to  one  of 
two  categories :  either  they  inhabit  a  finca  or  they  are 
what  is  called  pueblo  or  village  Indians.  A  finca,  as  I 
have  already  explained,  belongs  to  a  proprietor,  but  the 
pueblos  are  Comunidades  —  village  communities  be- 
longing to  the  inhabitants  themselves.  A  finca  is 
governed  and  administered  by  the  major-domo  rep- 
resenting the  proprietor;  a  pueblo  is  administered  by 
an  official  named  the  corregidor,  who  represents  the 
government  and  is  under  the  sub-prefect  of  the  district. 
Pueblo  Indians  pay  tribute  for  their  lands  and  work  in 
common;  they  appoint  their  own  alcalde,  who  regu- 
lates the  partition  of  crops  and  other  domestic  questions. 
It  appears  that  the  Pueblo  Indians  are  less  under  control 
than  the  finca  Indians;  at  all  events,  the  traveller  is 

156 


PREPARING    TO    ASCEND    SORATA 

more  likely  to  be  well  received  if  he  goes  to  a  finca  armed 
with  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  its  proprietor  than 
if  he  goes  to  a  pueblo  with  merely  an  official  letter  to 
the  corregidor. 

Thus,  having  determined  in  a  general  way  upon 
the  route  I  desired  to  follow,  it  was  necessary  to  find 
some  one  who  could  tell  me  what  finca  was  best  situated 
for  a  base,  and  then  to  procure  an  introduction  to  its 
owner,  and  get  from  him  a  letter  instructing  his  major- 
domo  to  supply  me  with  Indian  porters,  and  give  me 
whatever  assistance  I  might  require.  If  there  had  been 
in  existence  even  a  moderately  good  map  of  the  moun- 
tains, this  would  have  been  no  very  difficult  matter;  but 
as  no  such  map  existed,  it  was  by  no  means  easy  for 
me,  with  my  limited  command  of  Spanish,  to  explain 
what  I  wanted  in  La  Paz,  without  either  the  mountain 
or  a  map  to  point  to.  Here  Sefior  Granier,  with  his 
knowledge  of  European  languages  and  rare  geographi- 
cal instinct,  came  to  my  assistance;  he  instantly  per- 
ceived that  a  place  called  Umapusa  was  the  right  start- 
ing-point, and  he  made  every  arrangement  to  that  end. 
On  Illimani  we  had  been  able  to  take  Indian  porters  to 
within  a  very  short  distance  below  our  highest  camp. 
We  realized  that  Mount  Sorata  would  not  lend  itself  to 
so  convenient  an  arrangement,  for  the  mountain  has 
a  much  wider  spread,  a  large  gathering -ground  for 
snow  on  its  upper  part,  and  a  more  continuous  southern 
slope,  so  that  the  glaciers  descend  in  great  volume  to  a 
lower  level  than  on  Illimani,  and  the  highest  point  that 
can  be  reached  without  entering  upon  them  is  more  re- 
mote from  the  top.  It  followed  that,  as  the  Umapusa 
Indians  were  no  more  likely  than  those  of  Caimbaya 

157 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

to  be  willing  to  enter  the  world  of  snow,  we  should  be 
obliged  to  transport  our  camp  and  provisions  without 
their  assistance  for  at  least  one  day,  and  possibly  for 
more.  As  this  work  would  have  to  be  done  from  17,000 
feet  upward,  where  loads  in  any  case  must  be  small, 
it  seemed  that  repeated  journeys  would  be  necessary 
and  the  time  consumed  correspondingly  great.  Here, 
however,  the  preliminary  observations  we  had  made 
from  the  road  came  to  our  help;  for  we  had  noticed  that 
the  very  broken  parts  of  the  glacier  were  the  lower 
parts,  and  that  above  these  ice-falls  there  were  long 
slopes  of  snow,  broken  here  and  there,  but  not  for  any 
great  distance. 

I  therefore  conceived  that  we  might  be  able  to  em- 
ploy a  sledge  for  dragging  our  baggage  over  this  part  of 
the  ascent.  The  suggestion  fortunately  met  with 
Maquignaz's  approval,  for  it  did  not  come  upon  him 
as  entirely  novel.  In  the  previous  year,  while  accom- 
panying the  Duke  of  the  Abruzzi  to  the  summit  of 
Mount  St.  Elias,  he  and  his  companions  had  dragged 
sledges  over  ice  for  six  or  seven  weeks.  He  was  there- 
fore familiar  with  both  the  nature  of  a  sledge  and  the 
possibilities  of  using  it  even  on  crevassed  glaciers,  while 
I,  of  course,  had  had  plenty  of  experience  with  sledges 
during  two  summers  spent  exploring  the  interior  of 
Spitsbergen.  The  first  thing  I  had  to  do,  therefore,  at 
La  Paz,  was  to  find  a  carpenter,  and  make  him  under- 
stand the  nature  of  the  machine  he  was  to  fashion — no 
very  easy  matter ;  but  ultimately  the  man  seemed  to  get 
a  glimmering  idea  of  what  was  wanted,  and  set  to  work 
upon  it,  with  the  two  guides  to  watch  and  assist.  Prog- 
ress was  unfortunately  very  slow — first,  because  every- 

158 


PREPARING    TO    ASCEND    SORATA 

thing  is  done  slowly  in  this  country;  and,  secondly,, 
because  a  saint's  day,  that  is  a  holiday,  intervened, 
and  the  work  had  to  stop  while  the  carpenter  enjoyed 
himself,  and  for  the  best  part  of  the  following  day 
while  he  was  recovering. 

My  own  time  was  sufficiently  occupied  with  the  neces- 
sary packing  of  collections  and  repacking  of  baggage 
for  the  new  trip,  while  there  were  nimibers  of  people  to 
be  seen  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  One  evening  I  attended 
a  special  meeting  of  the  Geographical  Society  of  La  Paz, 
and  gave  some  account  of  the  ascent  of  Illimani.  In  the 
discussion  that  followed,  the  question  of  the  derivation 
of  the  mountain's  name  was  considered,  and  the  gen- 
eral impression  seemed  to  be  that  the  ancient  form  of 
the  word  was  Illi  Mamani,  which  being  translated 
means  ''bright  condor."  But  Mr.  Bandolier  told  me 
that,  in  his  opinion,  the  true  derivation  is  Hila-uma- 
ni,  meaning  ''with  much  water''  (much-water- with). 
I  think  it  was  Sefior  M.  V.  Ballivian  who  told  me  that 
the  earliest  recorded  form  of  the  name  is  Inti-llimani, 
though  what  that  may  mean  I  know  not. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE   APPROACH   TO   MOUNT   SORATA 

THE  sledge  and  other  preparations  I  have  de- 
scribed occupied  our  time  for  four  days.  On  the 
morning  of  the  fifth  after  our  return  from  Illimani 
(September  17th),  we  set  forth  for  Mount  Sorata.  This 
time  no  swift  tilbury  carried  us  over  the  Puna,  but  a 
caravan  of  mules.  Very  different  was  the  slow  plodding 
with  which  we  rode  up  the  long  zigzags  to  the  Alto  from 
the  wild  excitement  of  our  descent  down  them  on  the  day 
of  our  arrival,  for  now  there  was  no  surprise  in  store. 
Having  reached  the  edge  of  the  cliff  at  the  point  known 
as  the  Alto  de  Lima,*  where  an  old  Spanish  tower  or  pi- 
lastron  stands,  we  did  not  follow  the  carriage-road,  but 
struck  across  the  high  plateau  by  one  of  its  many  paths. 
From  this  point,  indeed,  the  radiation  of  the  foot-paths 
in  all  directions  is  very  remarkable.  They  must  diverge 
almost  in  hundreds  from  the  common  centre.  Not,  of 
course,  that  they  radiate  in  hundreds  of  different  direc- 
tions, but  they  sunder  in  groups  of  parallel  tracks, 
which  rapidly  multiply  as  they  diverge.  It  is  only 
wheeled  vehicles  that  make  broad  roads ;  South  America 
was  innocent  of  wheels  before  the  coming  of  the  Span- 

*  Another  mule-track  leads  to  a  point  farther  south,  named  the 
Alto  de  Potosi.  The  carriage  alto  lies  about  half-way  between  the 
two. 

160 


THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

iards.  The  native  highway  in  all  parts  of  South  Amer- 
ica is  the  foot-path.  Where  traffic  increases,  the  num- 
ber of  parallel  foot-paths  multiplies.  It  was  only  when, 
under  Inca  government,  a  wide  pavement  was  laid,  as 
was  the  case  along  the  main  north  and  south  highway, 
and  the  old  route  over  the  Huallata  Pass  to  Illabaya, 
whereof  traces  still  exist,  that  these  parallel  tracks 
were  supplanted.  The  Puna,  at  all  events,  except  for 
the  modern  carriage-road,  is  only  traversed  by  infinite 
numbers  of  these  foot-paths,  along  which  men,  donkeys, 
and  llamas  are  continuously  passing  in  their  ceaseless 
movement  towards  La  Paz  or  back  to  their  scattered 
farms  and  villages.  So  featureless  is  the  wide,  undu- 
lating plain,  which,  near  the  Alto,  at  any  rate,  is  not  cul- 
tivated at  all  nor  inhabited,  that  it  is  easy  to  mistake 
the  particular  track  diverging  towards  the  point  one 
wishes  to  attain.  The  carriage-road,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  deeply  excavated  stream  hollows  in  the  lower  slopes 
— hollows  some  hundred  feet  deep  and  several  hundred 
yards  wide — is  forced  to  make  a  divergence  from  the 
direct  route.  The  ordinary  donkey-track  to  Chililaya 
or  to  Achacache  goes  more  directly,  crossing  many  of 
these  undulations  low  down  near  the  flat,  but  the 
ancient  route,  which  passes  directly  through  the  village 
of  Umapusa  on  its  way  to  the  town  of  Sorata,  goes  right 
over  the  undulating  feet  of  the  mountains,  ascending 
and  descending  continuously.  This  route  is  never  fol- 
lowed nowadays  except  by  llama  caravans. 

We  were  destined  to  traverse  the  Puna,  for  one  reason 
or  another,  no  less  than  nine  times,  and  thus  came  to 
know  it  with  some  intimacy.    This  time  it  was  prac- 
tically new  to  us,  for  in  driving  over  a  country  one  learns 
L  i6i 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

little  about  it.  As  the  baggage  mules  and  arriero  lagged 
behind,  we  three  were  alone  on  the  wild  expanse.  By 
good  luck  we  took  a  wrong  track,  and  so  found  our- 
selves presently  in  the  carriage  -  road,  to  which  we 
thought  it  wisest  afterwards  to  adhere.  Thus  we 
reached  the  tamho  of  Okomisto,  which  we  should  other- 
wise have  missed,  where  tilburies  and  post-wagons 
change  horses,  and  where  we  found  Mr.  N.  E.  Bieber, 
of  the  Yani  Mine,  halting  for  refreshment  on  his  way 
to  La  Paz.  I  was  delighted  to  discover  him,  for  there 
were  many  matters  about  which  he  could  instruct  me 
better  than  any  one  else  in  the  country.  He  asked 
where  I  was  going  to  sleep.  I  said, "  At  Machaca-Marca, ' ' 
the  other  principal  post-house  on  the  Chililaya  road. 

''  Well,''  he  said,  "  it's  a  good  thing  you  met  me,  for  the 
man  would  have  refused  to  put  you  up.  Both  Ma- 
chaca-Marca* and  Okomisto  are  merely  post  stations 
for  the  use  of  passengers  by  the  postal  service,  and 
the  managers  are  not  allowed  by  the  company  to  ac- 
commodate passing  caravans.  When  I  was  new  to 
this  country  I  arrived  late  one  night  at  Machaca-Marca, 
expecting  to  stop  there,  but  the  manager  sent  me  on, 
and  I  had  to  flounder  over  the  Puna  in  the  dark,  hunting 
about  for  a  jinca  that  would  take  me  in.  Since  then  I 
have  made  an  arrangement  with  the  company,  and 
now  I  have  the  right  to  put  up  at  both  places,  on  con- 
dition of  my  keeping  my  own  store  of  cebada  for  my 
mules.  I  will,  therefore,  give  you  a  note  to  the  man- 
ager, so  that  you  may  use  my  cebada  and  be  put  up 
whenever  you  pass." 

*  The  name  means  "new  building." 
162 


THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

I  then  told  him  that  my  next  halting-place  would  be 
Achacache,  and  asked  information  about  that,  it  like- 
wise being  situated  on  the  route  constantly  taken  by 
Bieber  between  Yani  and  La  Paz.  He  said  there  was  an 
inn  there  kept  by  a  rather  suspicious  old  gentleman, 
who  turned  away  most  people  he  didn't  know,  so  he 
gave  me  a  letter  to  him  also,  and  thus  materially  as- 
sisted me  on  the  way. 

If  the  Puna  was  monotonous  to  drive  over  behind  a 
cantering  team  of  ponies,  it  was  still  more  monotonous 
to  traverse  at  the  tail  of  a  crawling  caravan  of  mules. 
Early  in  the  morning  and  late  in  the  evening,  when  the 
sun  is  below  the  horizon,  the  cold,  even  at  this  time  of 
year,  is  liable  to  be  intense,  and  one  suffers  from  almost 
frozen  feet.  In  the  winter,  when  the  winds  blow  and  the 
frosts  are  yet  more  severe,  the  dry  cold  is  so  trying  that 
even  the  natives  cover  up  their  faces  in  thick  woollen 
masks,  and  wrap  shawls  about  their  heads  and  ponchos 
over  their  bodies.  But  as  soon  as  the  sun  is  a  little  way 
above  the  horizon,  its  direct  rays  scorch  the  traveller  with 
their  great  heat,  so  that  he  soon  begins  to  pray  for  the 
night,  as  the  lesser  evil  of  the  two.  For  at  night,  when  the 
stars  shine  brightly  and  a  great  silence  descends  upon 
the  land,  and  the  Indians,  in  fear  of  one  another,  quit  the 
roads,  which  are  then  none  too  safe,  there  is  a  romance 
about  this  wide,  wild,  lonely  expanse.  By  day  the  burn- 
ing sunshine  so  envelopes  all  the  brown,  dry,  dusty 
ground  that  everything  in  view  seems  to  vanish  in 
brightness ;  and  the  eye,  unprotected  by  dark  glass,  can- 
not gaze  steadily  in  any  direction.  However  unpleasant 
to  the  senses  the  heat  and  glaring  light  may  be,  this 
blaze  of  brilliancy,  as  foreground  to  the  long  snowy  wall 

163 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

that  frets  the  margin  of  the  east,  remains  as  a  grand 
thing  in  the  memory.  But  the  Puna,  in  the  months 
I  knew  it,  is  a  place  of  many  moods.  When  the  sun 
is  hottest,  little  cyclones  raise  dust-whirlwinds,  which 
dance  along  often  by  scores  at  a  time;  now  and  again 
a  giant  tower  of  dust,  far  larger  than  the  ordinary, 
reaches  from  the  ground  high  into  the  heavens.  One 
such  whirlwind  I  saw,  a  black,  curving  column,  which 
seemed  to  descend  from  a  thunder-cloud  like  the  trunk 
of  some  gigantic  elephant  searching  the  ground.  In 
the  hot  hours  mirages  flood  the  plain  and  make  the 
Indians'  huts  dance  like  boats  bobbing  on  water.  It 
is  a  strange  sight  to  see  a  caravan  of  donkeys  or  llamas 
emerging  from  one  of  these  fictitious  lakes. 

Almost  daily,  a  white  cloud-bank  gathered  behind  the 
Cordillera  to  the  east.  When  the  sun  rose  the  range  was 
usually  clear;  but  an  hour  or  two  later  the  crest  of  the 
cloud-bank  would  be  seen  over  the  lower  passes,  and 
the  white  flood  would  presently  pour  round  the  north 
end  of  Mount  Sorata,  and  then  creep  along  the  western 
face  towards  the  south,  joining  other  mist  cataracts  de- 
scending from  the  great  gaps  in  the  range,  just  as  the 
clouds  crept  round  the  south  end  of  Illimani  and  up  the 
valley  of  La  Paz.  By  degrees  eruptions  of  cloud  would 
rise  at  different  points  behind  the  Cordillera  and,  bent 
over  by  the  wind  like  some  huge  breaking  wave,  would 
impend  upon  the  Puna.  Detached  fragments  of  these 
would  drift  away  westward,  with  thunder  in  their  bosoms 
and  trailing  skirts  of  hail  or  rain  beneath  them.  Trav- 
elling on  and  on,  they  would  meet  other  clouds  formed 
upon  the  western  Cordillera,  so  that,  when  night  came, 
lightning  flashes  often  illumined  the  sky  from  half 

164 


THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

a  dozen  places  at  once,  and  the  far-away  thunder  boomed 
ahnost  without  intermission.  But,  till  the  approach  of 
the  rainy  season,  these  storms  would  cease  and  the 
clouds  fade  in  the  early  night,  and  the  bright  stars 
would  soon  be  shining  in  unveiled  splendor  from  zenith 
to  horizon. 

Though,  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  the  Puna  had  all 
the  aspect  of  a  desert,  large  parts  of  it  produce  fairly 
good  crops  in  the  rainy  season.  The  lower  slopes  of 
the  mountains,  where  they  rise  from  the  plain,  are 
covered  with  tufts  of  a  species  of  Deyeuxia,  which  is 
frozen  to  a  golden-brown  tint  in  the  winter.  Here,  too, 
and  lower  down  are  plentifully  distributed,  like  so 
many  mole-hills,  domed  growths  of  the  resinous  balsam- 
bock  named  Yareta  (Bolax  ^lebaria),  one  of  the  best 
local  forms  of  fuel,  a  use  likewise  served  by  the  hardy 
tola  shrub.  Yareta  and  Deyeuxia  are  almost  the  sole 
products  of  the  first  part  of  the  Puna  traversed  by  the 
tracks  proceeding  northward  from  the  Alto  of  La  Paz  ; 
a  mile  or  two  farther  on  scattered  fields  are  passed, 
formed  by  removing  immense  quantities  of  water-worn 
stones  from  the  ground,  and  piling  them  up  in  heaps, 
the  area  occupied  by  the  heaps  being  as  great  as  that 
of  the  cultivable  ground  between  them.  Westward — that 
is  to  say,  lower  down  on  the  level  ground,  farther  from 
the  foot  of  the  Cordillera — the  amount  of  soil  is  great- 
er in  proportion  to  the  stones,  and  the  fields  are  larger. 
Farms  become  more  numerous,  and  so  do  villages,  and 
even  towns  of  considerable  size,  such  as  Laja  or  Puca- 
rani.  These  fields  produce  barley  (cebada),  potatoes  of 
different  sorts,  Ocas  (Oxalis  tuber osa)  and  other  tubers, 
Quinoa  (Chenopodium  quinoa),  and  a  few  other  prod- 

165 


THE   BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

ucts.  The  methods  of  cultivation  are  those  already 
described. 

More  than  once,  especially  in  the  later  weeks  of  our 
stay  in  Bolivia,  we  rode  past  a  field  that  was  being 
ploughed.  On  such  occasions,  instead  of  a  few  plough- 
men, the  whole  village  was  apparently  at  work.  The 
ploughs  used  are  the  roughest  wooden  forks  imagin- 
able, seldom  shod  with  iron.  They  are  dragged  by  a 
yoke  of  bulls.  A  great  noise  arises  from  the  field,  for 
all  the  folks  at  work  seem  to  shout  at  one  another  and 
exchange  jokes.  When  they  saw  me  preparing  to 
take  a  photograph,  many  of  the  men  posed  themselves 
in  positions  meant  to  be  funny,  and  one  man  rode 
his  plough,  balancing  himself  wonderfully.  He  came 
near,  to  be  assured  that  he  was  included  in  my  view. 
Such  rare  incidents  were  welcome  breaks  in  the  monot- 
ony of  our  ride.  Of  course,  we  met  the  usual  Indian 
caravans  on  the  trail,  but,  save  for  the  slowly  changing 
distant  view  of  the  mountains,  one  mile  of  Puna  is 
much  like  another.  Except  in  the  vicinity  of  Lake 
Titicaca,  birds  were  few.  Near  swamps  we  used  some- 
times to  see  the  small  gull,  named  Gabiotto,  but  the 
commonest  birds  were  the  brown  Macata  and  the  black 
Alcamario,  both  scavengers.  They  were  not  shy,  but 
would  let  us  approach  near  enough  to  pot  them  with 
our  revolvers  had  we  been  better  shots.  Another  com- 
mon bird,  especially  on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Cordil- 
lera, was  the  Sintenella,  whose  cry  was  one  of  the  ear- 
liest sounds  heralding  the  dawn. 

By  6  o'clock  we  reached  the  post-house  of  Machaca- 
Marca,  presented  our  credentials,  and  were  allowed 
to  enter.    The  place  consists  of  a  row  of  mud  cham- 

i66 


THE    OUTSKIRTS    OF   ACHACACHE 


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UNIVERS/TV 

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THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

bers  built  round  a  courtyard,  with  a  couple  of  large 
corrals  or  walled  enclosures  for  mules  in  the  rear.  Like 
Okomisto,  it  was  distinguished  from  the  farms  in  the 
neighborhood  by  the  many  great  stacks  of  cebada 
that  stood  about  it,  though  in  1900  these  were  absent. 
The  manager  was  in  a  very  happy  state  of  intoxica- 
tion, and  entirely  pleased  with  himself.  ''  I  am  drunk 
to-day/'  he  said — "a  little  drunk — but  I  shall  be  all 
right  to-morrow.  Excuse  me,  excuse  me,''  he  said. 
''  You  will  excuse  me — a  little  drunk — all  right  to-mor- 
Tow."  He  came  out  and  stood  beside  me  on  a  dust 
heap  by  the  road,  looking  out  for  our  baggage  mules, 
which  were  somewhat  behind.  Once  or  twice  he  fell  off 
the  dust  heap,  but  that  only  added  to  his  happiness. 
He  borrowed  my  field-glasses,  tried  to  look  through 
them  at  the  wrong  end,  and  returned  them  to  me  with 
the  remark  that  to-morrow  he  would  be  better  able  to 
use  them.  Some  animals  appeared  in  the  distance  on 
the  road,  and  I  thought  they  might  be  ours. 

''No,"  he  said,  ''that's  not  Coro's  arriero;  I  know 
him ;  he's  drunk ;  he's  sure  to  be  drunk.  Those  are 
Indians — my  Indians.  All  the  Indians  about  here 
are  my  Indians.  They  all  work  for  me — four  hundred 
Indians.  Bad  fellows!  I  have  this  revolver  for  them, 
and  they  know  me.  If  one  tries  to  come  it  over  me — 
bang!  he  goes  to  the  pantheon.  Very  useful,  this 
revolver,"  he  said.  "Very  useful  for  the  Indians; 
they  know  me.  I'm  drunk  to-day,  but  I'll  be  all  right 
to-morrow."  After  which  he  lapsed  into  the  Aymara 
tongue,  and  I  could  understand  him  no  more. 

Making  our  bed  on  the  table  in  the  room  where  the 
post  travellers  get  their  mid-day  meal,  we  passed  a 

167 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

good  enough  night,  and  were  on  the  road  again  early- 
next  morning.  For  an  hour  or  two  we  followed  the  road 
back  towards  Chililaya,  till  we  came  to  a  great  mud 
mile-stone,  or  pilastron,  such  as  in  former  days  they 
were  wont  to  build  for  marking  the  route.  These 
pilastrons  are  rather  confusing,  because  some  merely 
stand  at  prominent  points,  while  others  are  league- 
posts,  marking  distances.  At  this  particular  pilastron, 
the  Achacache  road  turned  off  to  the  right.  This,  in 
fact,  was  the  ancient  high-road,  for  Chililaya  is  quite 
a  modern  port;  the  old  port  of  Lake  Titicaca  in  Inca 
days  was  Achacache,  which  then  stood  on  the  margin  of 
the  lake,  though  it  is  now  cut  off  from  the  waters  by 
a  mud  flat.  The  main  route  to  the  north  went  from 
Achacache  over  the  Cordillera  to  the  town  of  Illabaya, 
and  thence  to  the  gold  region  east  of  the  Andes.  There 
appears  also  to  have  been  another  route,  traces  of  which 
are  still  clearly  marked,  and  are  known  as  the  Incas' 
Way.  This  led  towards  the  Cordillera  at  a  point  south 
of  Mount  Sorata,  but  whether  it  crossed  the  range  by  a 
snow -pass  or  whether  it  merely  led  to  some  ancient 
mining  settlement  on  the  mountain  slopes  I  have  been 
unable  to  discover.  In  the  opposite  direction  it  was  said 
to  lead  to  Tiahuanaco. 

In  the  middle  of  the  morning  we  reached  the  large 
Indian  village  of  Huarina,  on  the  margin  of  the  inner 
bay  of  Titicaca,  which  is  called  Lake  Vinamarca.  It 
is  just  like  some  Irish  villages,  with  whitewashed,  mud- 
walled,  thatched  cabins,  and  pigs  and  fowls  running 
about.  There  were  plenty  of  cattle  on  the  margin  of 
the  water,  eating  weeds  that  the  Indians  were  dragging 
out  of  the  lake.     Low,  rounded  hills  with  bare  slopes 

i68 


ACHACACHE    CHURCH 


INDIAN   CHILDREN 


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THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

rose  on  our  right  hand  from  the  level  ground  and  shut 
out  the  view  of  the  snow-mountains.  This  line  of  low 
hills  is  continuous  as  far  as  Achacache.  We  had  al- 
ready passed  two  corresponding  patches  of  similar 
hills  between  Okomisto  and  this  point.  This  series  of 
low  hills  consists  of  red  sandstones  and  conglomerates, 
ascribed  by  Forbes  to  the  Permian  series.  The  re- 
mainder of  our  way  led  beside  or  among  these  hills, 
with  now  and  again  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  waters  of 
the  great  lake. 

Reaching  the  summit  of  a  little  rise  with  a  mud  pilas- 
tron  on  the  top,  there  suddenly  appeared  before  us 
the  surprisingly  large  Indian  town  of  Achacache,  with 
a  bay  of  Titicaca  visible  beyond  it  and  a  great  stretch 
of  plain  around.  The  main  street  of  the  town  led 
straight  down  among  the  houses,  towards  the  great 
domed  church,  with  its  fantastic  towers,  occupying 
the  whole  of  one  side  of  the  large  plaza.  There  were 
signs  of  an  abundant  Indian  population,  all  appar- 
ently poor.  On  the  main  street  stood  two  or  three 
houses  of  some  importance,  and  a  public  school,  in  a 
building  labelled  ''Teatro.''  It  was  just  a  mud  stage, 
roofed  over  and  open  to  a  court-yard.  The  children, 
forty  or  fifty  perhaps  in  number,  were  shouting  out 
their  lessons  in  chorus,  in  two  divisions,  the  master 
on  the  stage,  the  pupils  in  the  pit.  What  surprised 
me  perhaps  more  than  anything  was  the  exceeding 
cleanliness  of  the  streets ;  no  exceptional  condition,  as  I 
found  during  my  many  visits  to  the  town.  All  the 
streets  appeared  to  be  carefully  swept  every  day. 

The  inn-keeper  received  us  willingly,  thanks  to 
Bieber's  letter,  and  placed  at  our  disposal  quite  a  decent 

169 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

room,  opening  on  the  courtyard,  with  a  smaller  room 
within  it  which  was  actually  furnished  with  a  bed. 
I  immediately  sallied  forth  to  inspect  the  plaza  while 
dinner  was  preparing.  It  is  a  big  square,  surrounded 
by  the  church,  the  sub-prefect's  house,  one  or  two  low 
communal  buildings,  and  half  a  dozen  native  shops, 
gay  with  the  bright-colored  stuffs  which  alone  take 
the  fancy  of  the  Indians.  The  colors  were  surpris- 
ingly good  and  very  un-European,  yet  on  inspection 
it  appeared  that  most  of  them  were  cheap  goods  made 
in  Germany  to  match  samples  of  the  old  local  products. 
An  Indian  woman  always  wears  a  short  gown  of  bright- 
colored,  fluffy-textured  material;  the  colors  they  affect 
are  crimson  or  orange,  and,  less  frequently,  blue  or 
green.  The  sub-prefect  was,  unfortunately,  absent, 
so  I  sought  to  communicate  with  the  corregidor,  a 
person  of  somewhat  indifferent  reputation  in  this  place. 
He,  however,  was  also  away,  and  his  wife  was  reigning 
in  his  stead.  The  letter  from  the  prefect  of  La  Paz 
was  annexed  by  her,  but  nothing  further  happened; 
and  when  I  sent  to  know  what  arrangements  she  might 
be  making  to  supply  the  guides  we  wanted  to  take 
us  next  day  to  Umapusa,  the  answer  was  that  she  was 
doing  nothing.  I  then  sent  to  get  my  letter  back,  but 
they  refused  to  give  that  up  unless  they  were  paid  some 
money.  Accordingly,  I  went  back  myself,  walked  into 
the  room,  found  the  letter,  and  took  it  away. 

Our  dinner  was  a  complicated  kind  of  soup,  named 
chairo,  served  in  a  massive  silver  bowl,  of  simple,  undec- 
orated  form,  evidently  very  old.  It  contained  fragments 
of  meat  and  a  quantity  of  potatoes  of  different  sorts, 
hotly  flavored  with  picantes.     Bolivia  is  a  great  country 

170 


THE  APPROACH  TO  MOUNT  SORATA 

for  potatoes;  they  are  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  food 
that  the  Puna  produces.  Many  varieties  are  cultivated 
and  prepared  for  food  in  many  ways.  I  have  been  told 
that  over  a  hundred  different  kinds  of  potatoes  bless 
Bolivia.  Some  (called  chuno)  are  put  out  at  night  to 
freeze  and  taken  in  before  the  morning  sun  brings 
on  a  thaw;  some,  on  the  other  hand,  are  dried  in  the 
sun  and  taken  in  at  night  to  be  sheltered  from  the  frost ; 
some  are  wetted  and  frozen,  and  some  are  dried  and 
frozen,  and  there  are  many  other  ways  of  preparing 
them.  In  our  soup  were  both  black  and  white  sorts, 
besides  tubers  which  were  not  potatoes  at  all. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
OBSTACLES  TO  ASCENT  OF  SORATA 

ON  the  morning  of  September  19th  we  rode  away 
to  find  the  farm  of  Umapusa,  whence  our  ascent 
of  Mount  Sorata  was  to  commence.  Passing 
through  a  few  by-streets,  bordered  by  huts  for  the  most 
part  in  ruins,  we  cHmbed  over  the  end  of  the  last  of  the 
low  line  of  Permian  hills,  following  a  track  worn  deeply 
into  the  rock  by  centuries  of  traffic.  On  the  top  a  won- 
derful view  burst  upon  us,  for  at  our  feet  was  a  very  large, 
flat  basin,  which  in  the  rainy  season  becomes  an  arm  of 
the  lake;  beyond  arose  long,  gentle  slopes,  some  ten 
miles  of  ascent,  and  then,  to  crown  all,  the  brilliant  mass 
of  our  mountain,  wreathed  in  shining  clouds.  Halt- 
ing to  gaze  upon  this  entrancing  vision,  I  observed 
an  old  Indian  woman,  clothed  in  rags,  who  was  busy 
about  some  religious  action.  She  was  arranging  loose 
stones  together  and  apparently  muttering  prayers. 
When  she  had  gone,  I  went  to  see  what  she  had 
made,  and  found  a  little  edifice  like  a  prehistoric  dol- 
men, with  three  stones  set  up  on  edge  for  walls  and  a 
fourth  on  the  top  for  a  roof.  Later  on,  whenever  we 
visited  any  of  the  sacred  high  places  of  the  Indians, 
we  always  found  them  occupied  by  a  multitude  of 
these  little  models.  Sometimes  they  might  be  num- 
bered   by    hundreds,  as,  for  instance,  on   the   top   of 

172 


I 


OBSTACLES  TO  ASCENT  OF  SORATA 

Pefias  Hill.  It  seems  probable  enough  that  the  custom 
of  building  these  little  edifices  is  a  survival  from  pre- 
Christian  days.  On  inquiry,  however,  I  was  told  that 
the  Indians  have  been  taught  to  call  these  things 
''Holy  Sepulchres/'  and  to  associate  them  with  Chris- 
tianity. 

We  descended  to  the  flat,  crossed  the  little  Acha- 
cache  brook,  now  quite  shallow,  and,  taking  a  wide  cir- 
cuit to  avoid  the  swamp,  gained  the  foot  of  the  long 
slope,  and  so  mounted  to  the  finca  of  Umapusa.*  It 
was  a  short  ride,  and  might  easily  have  been  added 
to  the  previous  day's  march,  had  we  known  where 
to  look  for  the  place.  The  major-domo  was  out,  so 
we  had  to  wait  an  hour  or  two.  When  he  came  in,  he 
received  our  letters,  promised  to  give  us  all  assistance, 
and  led  us  about  a  mile  farther  up  to  a  smaller  estab- 
lishment, a  mud  hut,  over  whose  door  was  painted  in 
crooked  letters  the  word  ''Posada.''  This  simple  build- 
ing is,  in  fact,  an  inn,  situated  on  the  ancient  direct 
llama-track  leading  from  Pefias  over  the  Cordillera  to 
the  town  of  Sorata.  From  the  finca  to  the  posada,  and 
some  distance  farther  up,  the  whole  slope  was  covered 
with  the  fields  and  mud  huts  of  a  large  Indian  settle- 
ment, while  yet  higher,  bearing  somewhat  the  relation 
to  Umapusa  that  Caimbaya  does  to  Cotafia,  was  a 
village  named  Fraskiya.  The  altitude  of  the  posada  is 
about  13,000  feet  above  sea-level;  yet  even  here,  and  to 
some  distance  above  Fraskiya,  that  is  to  say,  well  over 
14,000  feet,  crops  are  grown — cebada  near  the  finca,  and 

*Uma-pusa  means,  "where  water  gushes  out,"  The  name  is  ap- 
propriate because  of  the  numerous  springs  of  water  which  rise  near 
it  in  the  damp  season. 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

potatoes  higher  up.  They  had  not  yet  begun  to  break 
the  ground  for  this  year's  sowing,  but  during  the 
course  of  the  following  six  weeks  ploughing  and  sowing 
were  actively  carried  on,  as  I  had  occasion  to  observe. 
The  long  day  that  was  still  before  us  was  chiefly 
spent  in  making  arrangements  for  an  early  start  on 
the  morrow.  The  manager  of  the  finca,  Miguel  Tarifa, 
placed  his  son  Caesar  at  our  disposal  to  accompany 
us,  and  sent  up  word  to  Fraskiya  that  Indians  should 
be  enlisted  to  go  along  with  us  next  day.  The  guides 
employed  their  time  in  making  collections  for  me, 
Maquignaz  shooting  birds,  Pellissier  quite  as  keenly 
hunting  after  insects,  with  satisfactory  result.  I 
worked  at  bird-skinning,  and  so  the  day  passed.  Un- 
fortunately, the  weather  was  none  too  good,  for  a  strong 
wind  blew,  bringing  over  heavy  clouds  from  the  north- 
west. But  the  following  morning  promised  better, 
when  we  set  forth  to  ride  up  to  Fraskiya.  The  enor- 
mous area  and  spread  of  Mount  Sorata  became  ap- 
parent the  nearer  we  approached.  The  summit  was  now 
no  more  than  fifteen  miles  away  as  the  crow  flies,  and 
we  were  directly  advancing  towards  it ;  but  in  so  doing 
we  interposed  the  rounded  lower  slopes  between  our  sight 
and  all  except  the  tips  of  the  great  peaks.  Thus  we 
gained  no  further  information  of  the  work  that  lay 
before  us  than  what  we  had  acquired  from  the  carriage- 
road.  The  slope  itself,  from  the  swamp  below  to  the  foot 
of  the  final  rocks  above,  consisted  entirely  of  alluvial 
deposits — that  is  to  say,  of  rounded,  water-worn  stones 
and  earth.  Now  and  again  large  bowlders  occurred, 
apparently  too  heavy  to  have  been  transported  by 
water,    but    they    were    water-worn.     Their    presence 

174 


MOUNT    SORATA 


OBSTACLES  TO  ASCENT  OF  SORATA 

seemed  to  suggest  that  they  had  been  carried  by  ice 
and  afterwards  water- worn;  in  fact,  all  the  material 
forming  the  slopes  resembled  a  moraine  which  had  been 
rearranged  by  water  after  the  retreat  of  the  ice.  This 
was  true  not  merely  of  the  slope  above  Umapusa,  but 
of  all  the  corresponding  slopes  leading  up  from  the 
Puna  to  the  rocky  crest  of  the  Cordillera.  Following 
a  little  stream  gully  among  the  fields,  and  turning  an 
abrupt  corner,  we  put  up  four  or  five  wild  ducks,  which 
hurried  away  down  to  the  lake. 

Arrived  at  Fraskiya,  we  rode  into  the  court-yard 
of  the  finca,  which  serves  also  as  burying-ground.  To 
the  amusement  of  the  natives,  I  sat  down  on  the  edge 
of  a  newly  dug  grave,  with  my  legs  hanging  over  the 
side,  quite  unconscious  of  what  the  hole  was  intended 
for.  All  the  inhabitants  were  gathered  together,  and 
an  immense  clatter  of  tongues  arose;  but  Caesar  proved 
to  be  a  man  of  influence,  and,  after  no  more  than  half 
an  hour's  delay,  five  Indians  agreed  to  accompany  us. 
Their  names  were  Ilario  Huanca,  Jose  and  Manuel 
Mamani,  Jeronimo  Carbrera,  and  Manuel  Lucan.  The 
best  of  them  all  was  Jose,  a  very  wiry  old  man  with 
a  deeply  furrowed,  humorous  countenance  and  an 
inmiense  deal  to  say  for  himself,  not  a  word  of  which, 
unfortunately,  could  I  understand.  He  was  the  first 
to  grasp  the  novel  idea  that  we  actually  meant  to  climb 
the  great  snow-peak,  and  he  had  intelligent  sugges- 
tions to  make  as  to  the  best  route  of  approach.  Though 
quite  an  old  man,  he  was  eager  to  go  with  us,  and 
was  included  in  the  party  at  his  own  earnest  desire. 
As  far  as  mules  could  climb  there  was  no  occasion  for 
the  porters  to  carry  anything  except  their  own  pro- 

175 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

visions,  the  chief  item  of  which  was  a  supply  of  coca 
leaves  for  chewing.  Csesar  brought  dried  mutton, 
•of  the  kind  called  chalonas,  a  very  useful  provision 
for  travellers  in  Bolivia.  He  also  had  a  store  of  baked 
grains  of  sweet  maize,  which  we  found  to  be  a  good 
substitute  for  bread  and  easily  portable.  Bolivian 
Indians  are  traditionally  supposed  to  be  almost  magi- 
cally supported  by  coca.  You  hear  stories  of  the  long 
marches  they  make  without  food  or  rest,  under  the 
stimulus  of  coca.  The  fact,  however,  appears  to  be 
that  the  amount  of  food  eaten  by  a  Bolivian  Indian 
in  the  course  of  a  week  is  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  amount  eaten  by  natives  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 
It  is  only  that  they  have  contracted  a  habit,  doubtless 
by  the  assistance  of  coca,  of  postponing  their  meals  for 
a  very  long  time  and  making  up  afterwards  for  the 
fast.  They  are  good,  strong  men,  and  excellent  march- 
ers, but  they  are  in  no  wise  better  or  hardier  than  the 
coolies  whom  I  employed  in  various  parts  of  the  Kash- 
mir Mountains. 

The  ascent  was  continued  above  the  fields  up  a  gently 
sloping  moor,  covered  with  tussocky  grass.  The  view 
developed  behind,  over  the  two  branches  of  the  blue 
lake  in  the  embrace  of  low  golden  hills.  Clouds  were 
pouring  over  the  Huaillata  Pass,  which  leads  to  the 
town  of  Sorata,  and  were  creeping  along  the  flank  of 
the  mountain  towards  us.  A  flock  of  alpacas  were 
grazing  at  this  level  of  the  slope;  llamas  were  met  higher 
up.  The  alpacas  resembled  llamas,  but  their  long 
fleeces  were  in  a  very  untidy,  tattered  condition.  The 
llamas  were  mostly  females,  for  female  llamas  do  not 
carry  loads,  but  remain  in  the  mountains  while  the 

176 


OBSTACLES    TO    ASCENT   OF    SORATA 

males  go  off  with  caravans.  The  males,  after  a  long 
journey,  require  some  months  of  rest  in  the  hills  be- 
fore they  undertake  another  expedition.  The  first 
llamas  I  ever  saw  impressed  me  as  of  ungainly  and 
even  uncanny  appearance;  but  it  is  impossible  to  be- 
come familiar  with  their  splendid,  intelligent  heads, 
their  beautiful,  soft,  large  eyes,  and  fine,  almost  eagle- 
like expression,  the  noble  outlines  of  the  nostril,  and 
poise  of  the  whole  head,  without  becoming  attracted 
to  these  animals.  On  the  hill-side  they  scatter  about; 
but,  once  on  the  road,  they  travel  together  in  a  closely 
packed  flock,  and  are  difficult  to  divert  from  the  direction 
along  which  they  are  travelling.  They  are  timid,  and 
their  timidity  drives  them  to  huddle  together.  When 
annoyed,  they  spit  at  the  object  of  their  hostility  with 
fatal  accuracy  and  dangerous  length  of  range.  But 
they  are  perfectly  docile  in  the  hands  of  a  driver  they 
know.  In  size  they  are  about  equal  to  a  donkey; 
their  bodies  and  legs  are  like  those  of  sheep,  but  taller ; 
while  they  have  a  neck  and  head  roughly  resembling 
a  camel's,  but  more  beautiful,  and  expressive  of  a  totally 
different  kind  of  character.  No  man  can  ever  be  fond 
of  a  camel  unless  to  the  manner  born ;  but  it  would  be 
easy,  I  imagine,  to  make  a  pet  of  a  llama. 

After  mounting  steadily  for  three  hours,  it  seemed 
that  we  were  approaching  the  actual  foot  of  the  glacier, 
till,  rounding  over  a  little  to  the  right,  we  suddenly 
found  ourselves  looking  down  upon  a  deep  valley.  It 
was  once  filled  with  a  glacier,  and  is  now  in  part  occu- 
pied by  a  lake,  held  in  by  an  ancient  moraine  dam, 
and  called  the  lake  of  Saint  Francis.  The  sharply  out- 
lined lateral  moraines  of  the  same  departed  glacier  re- 
M  177 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

main  high  above  its  waters  on  both  sides.  The  valley 
is  cut  deeply  into  the  great  alluvial  slope,  and  stretches 
back  to  the  heart  of  the  mountains.  We  saw  its  main 
branch  going  straight  up  towards  the  Cordillera,  filled 
at  the  head  by  a  considerable  glacier,  which  drains  the 
southeast  basin  of  Mount  Sorata.  The  three  glaciers 
draining  the  south  slope  of  the  mountain,  divided  from 
one  another  below  by  rocky  hills,  likewise  descend 
towards  this  valley  and  empty  their  waters  into  its 
main  stream,  and  so  into  the  lake  of  Saint  Francis. 
The  nearest  to  us  of  these  side  valleys  swept  round  be- 
hind the  slope  on  the  crest  of  which  we  stood,  and  alto- 
gether cut  us  off  from  the  great  mountain;  so  that, 
though  we  were  now  at  about  17,000  feet,  it  would  be 
necessary  for  us  to  descend  into  this  valley  before  we 
could  attain  the  glacier  and  begin  the  real  ascent. 
This  was  a  disappointment.  Two  days'  work  were 
required  to  reattain,  on  the  mountain  itself,  the  altitude 
to  which  we  had  thus  ridden  on  one  of  its  outworks. 
Obviously,  the  place  for  our  camp  would  be  in  the 
nearest  side  valley,  at  the  foot  of  its  glacier.  The 
sooner  we  got  there  the  better,  for  heavy  clouds  had 
now  gathered  behind  us  and  were  pouring  rain  upon 
the  slopes  up  which  we  had  come  and  upon  the  village 
below,  though  the  mountain  still  continued  clear. 

Rounding  the  corner  to  the  left,  and  losing  the  view 
of  the  lake,  there  burst  upon  me  as  I  commenced  the 
descent  into  the  side  valley  a  glorious  view  of  the  snowy 
peaks.  At  my  feet  was  the  valley  into  which  we  were 
to  descend.  The  retreat  of  the  glacier,  which  for- 
merly filled  it  and  joined  the  other  glaciers  I  have 
mentioned,  uncovered  a  series  of  small  lake-basins  at 

178 


OBSTACLES  TO  ASCENT  OF  SORATA 

different  levels.  All  of  these  have  since  been  filled  up 
by  the  mud  deposits  of  the  glacier-torrent.  They  are 
now  represented  by  level  grassy  plateaus,  fair  to  look 
upon.  Above  the  highest  of  these  plateaus  rests  the 
present  snout  of  the  glacier,  which  descends  in  fine  ice- 
falls  from  the  crevassed  flank  of  a  snowy  peak.  For  the 
moment  I  fancied  this  to  be  the  highest  peak  of  Mount 
Sorata.  It  was,  however,  only  an  out-lier,  the  Hau- 
kana  peak.  The  opposite  side  of  the  small  valley  was 
formed  by  a  rugged  range  of  bare  hills,  the  extremity 
of  a  ridge  coming  from  the  same  peak.  Between  these 
rugged  hills  and  the  peak  there  was  visible  a  depression 
or  col,  over  which,  as  soon  as  I  had  identified  the  posi- 
tion of  Ancohuma,  it  became  obvious  that  our  route  to 
the  foot  of  the  highest  peak  must  lie.  Thus,  it  was 
abundantly  clear  that  our  base  camp  must  be  planted 
on  the  highest  dry  lake-basin  at  the  foot  of  the  glacier. 
From  thence  our  next  day's  route  would  lie  up  the 
moraine  and  rocky  slopes,  along  the  left  bank  of  the 
Haukafia  glacier,  to  the  col,  where  our  second  camp 
must  be  placed.  The  remainder  of  the  way  would  lie 
up  the  snow-field  beyond  the  col — that  is  to  say,  the 
snow-field  draining  directly  southward  from  the  high 
plateau  and  feeding  the  glacier  which  flowed  down  the 
next  side  valley  beyond  that  one  into  which  I  was 
looking.  These  two  glaciers  have  need  to  be  named 
for  the  purposes  of  my  narrative,  and  I  called  the 
nearer  one,  that  by  whose  moraine  we  must  first  as- 
cend, the  Haukana  Glacier;  and  the  next  one,  beyond 
the  col,  the  Ancohuma  Glacier.  To  the  snowy  peak 
straight  ahead  I  gave  the  name  Haukafia  Peak. 
A  good  path  was  unexpectedly  revealed  by  the  Ind- 

179 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

ians,  leading  down  to  the  Haukafia  Valley.  It  soon 
became  obvious  that,  at  some  time,  not  perhaps  very 
recently,  there  had  been  much  traffic  into  this  remote 
recess,  for  a  number  of  tracks  zigzagged  down  or  trav- 
ersed round  the  slope,  all  obviously  made  by  men  and 
not  merely  by  grazing  animals.  Inquiry  elicited  the 
information  that  a  gold-mine  had  been  worked  by  an 
English  company  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of 
the  point  where  I  had  determined  to  camp.  The  name 
of  this  mine  was  Hiska  Haukana,  which  means  "  little 
stroke.''  A  rapid  descent  landed  us  on  the  second  and 
largest  of  the  old  lake-basins.  It  was  being  grazed 
by  a  flock  of  llamas,  who,  as  I  thought,  were  attended 
by  a  Scotchman  in  a  tam-o'-shanter  hat ;  but  he  turned 
out  to  be  merely  the  deceptive  shadow  of  a  rock.  In 
such  deceptive  shadows,  mimicking  human  or  fanciful 
forms,  it  is  probable  that  the  traditions  of  mountain 
dragons  and  other  strange  beasts  have  their  origin. 
The  old  lake-basin  was  about  half  a  mile  long,  and 
afforded  admirable  grazing  -  ground  for  our  mules. 
Some  parts  of  it  were  swampy.  In  one  corner  there  still 
remained  a  small  shallow  pool.  The  multitude  of 
birds  that  presently  revealed  themselves  in  this  retired 
locality  was  remarkable;  it  was  also  one  of  the  most 
favored  places  for  plant  life  that  we  discovered  at  any 
high  level.  A  whole  flock  of  green-headed  humming- 
birds fluttered  about  a  bush;  two  geese  and  half  a  dozen 
wild  ducks  were  feeding  on  the  pool.  A  pair  of  gulls 
took  fright  when  they  saw  us,  and,  slowly  circling 
round  and  round,  rose  gradually  two  or  three  thousand 
feet  into  the  air,  till  they  surpassed  the  height  of  the 
surrounding  hills  and  could  fly  straight  awaj^  to  Lake 

i8o 


f    ^     OF  THE  A 

i   UNIVERSITY  I 

OF  J 


OBSTACLES   TO    ASCENT   OF    SORATA 

Titicaca ;  but,  even  at  their  highest,  they  were  far  below 
two  condors  soaring  incredibly  high  aloft.  Some  snipe 
were  also  put  up  on  the  fiat,  and  there  were  other  small 
birds,  which  I  was  unfortunately  prevented  from  collect- 
ing by  lack  of  suitably  loaded  cartridges.  The  opposite 
slope  was  formed  of  debris  and  broken  rocks,  among 
which  great  numbers  of  bizcachas,  little  rabbit-like 
beasts,  were  skipping  about. 

From  the  head  of  this  boggy  meadow,  a  path  known 
to  the  Indians  still  led  on,  even  when  the  mules  could 
go  no  farther,  up  rocks  rounded  by  the  rasping  of  ice, 
to  a  higher  and  very  small  lake-basin  where  the  path 
ceased.  Close  to  the  abandoned  gold-mine  we  pitched 
our  main  camp  in  the  evening  of  September  20th.  The 
position  was  excellent,  for  the  ground  was  level,  soft, 
sheltered,  and  dry.  Near  at  hand  was  the  foot  of  the 
glacier  up  which  our  farther  advance  must  be  made. 
While  the  tents  were  pitching,  I  went  forth  and  shot 
the  toughest  goose  that  ever  dismayed  human  teeth. 
He  took  a  deal  of  shooting  with  the  No.  6  shot,  which 
was  the  largest  I  had  in  my  cartridges.  Winged  at 
the  first  discharge,  he  waddled  off  up-hill  at  a  smart  pace, 
along  a  llama-track.  I  puffed  and  blew,  and  yet  could 
not  gain  on  him.  A  pursuit  at  16,000  feet  soon  ex- 
hausts any  man.  I  became  almost  comatose,  but  held 
on.  At  last  the  path  ended,  and  he  got  among  broken 
rocks.  I  still  had  better  ground,  and  so  overtook  him. 
More  dead  than  alive,  I  stumbled  down -hill  with  my 
burdensome  trophy.  A  couple  of  bizcachas  got  up, 
and  I  knocked  them  over.  Next  minute  I  wished  I  had 
not,  for  gun  and  game  were  together  so  heavy  that  I 
could  hardly  drag  them  and  myself  along.    Night  came 

181 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

on,  and  I  was  still  a  long  way  from  camp,  toiling  hideous- 
ly. But  something  moved  in  the  darkness ;  it  turned  out 
to  be  the  arriero  looking  after  the  mules.  He  shouldered 
part  of  my  load,  and  I  reached  the  tents  just  in  time  for 
supper.  The  skin  of  that  remorseless  goose  now  rests 
in  the  British  Museum.  Near  the  edge  of  the  grazing- 
ground  the  arriero  showed  me  his  bed,  a  pile  of  sheep- 
skins from  the  pack-saddles,  with  a  heap  of  harness 
close  by  in  a  corner  of  rocks.  It  looked  a  chilly  place, 
though  he  seemed  pleased  with  it ;  he  exchanged  it  readily 
enough,  however,  for  a  small  tent  which  I  had  brought 
for  him.  He  was  really  a  most  adaptable  fellow,  and 
would  have  been  content  at  any  time  to  take  up  his  lodg- 
ing between  a  couple  of  asses.  No  persuasion  would 
separate  him  from  the  pack-saddles,  on  which  he  always 
lay,  fearing  lest  they  should  be  stolen,  a  fate  he  appre- 
hended for  every  loose  object. 

Behind  our  four  tents  rose  an  amphitheatral  slope, 
strewn  with  huge  rocks  fallen  from  the  hill.  Dry  grass 
in  tussocks,  one  to  three  feet  high,  grew  among  the 
rocks.  The  Indians  lit  this  in  the  darkness.  At  first 
it  made  a  fire,  pleasant  to  warm  one's  self  at;  but  a  rising 
wind  drove  it  up  the  slope.  The  flames  leaped  in  sheets 
from  patch  to  patch,  encircling  the  rocks  and  spreading 
wider  and  deeper  every  instant.  It  was  as  though  all 
the  gold  had  come  glowing  forth  from  its  hiding-places 
to  mock  us.  The  smoke  shone  like  flame  in  the  general 
glare,  and  eddied  round  and  up  till  it  caught  the  moon- 
light, high  aloft,  and  turned  to  silver.  The  cirque  of 
mountains  around  were  illuminated  to  their  highest  crest. 
Presently  the  fire  disappeared  from  view  behind  a  bend 
in  the  ground,  and  only  the  glare  from  it  could  be  seen 

182 


OBSTACLES    TO    ASCENT    OF   SORATA 

on  slopes  and  smoke.  We  might  have  been  on  the  flank 
of  an  erupting  volcano.  The  Indians,  flitting  about  like 
demons,  spreading  the  fire,  added  to  the  weirdness  of  the 
scene.  It  was  hard  to  believe  they  were  men.  Not  till 
the  conflagration  died  down  did  I  find  it  possible  to  tear 
myself  away  from  the  splendid  sight  and  close  out  the 
world  behind  the  thin  curtain  of  my  tiny  tent. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
FIRST   ATTEMPT   ON   MOUNT  SORATA 

NEXT  morning  I  sent  off  the  guides  and  Indians  to 
carry  up  a  relay  of  baggage  and  fix  on  the  posi- 
tion for  a  higher  camp.  Two  of  the  Indians  caused 
trouble,  whether  through  fear  or  mere  idleness  it  was  im- 
possible to  discover.  They  were  with  difficulty  restrained 
from  throwing  down  their  loads  and  bolting  then  and 
there.  They  slipped  away  in  the  night.  So,  with  only 
four  Indians,  we  made  our  final  start  on  the  cold,  bright 
morning  of  September  22d.  The  way,  though  steep  and 
fatiguing,  was  easy  from  a  mountaineering  point  of  view. 
Sometimes  the  stones  were  loose.  Now  and  again  we  had 
to  turn  up  the  hill-side,  by  some  gully  or  other  favorable 
gap,  to  round  an  obstacle.  But  advance  was  regular, 
and  we  were  soon  above  the  level  where  the  surface  of 
the  Haukafia  Glacier  was  covered  with  stones.  We 
could  not  take  to  the  ice,  for  it  was  too  much  crevassed. 
I  now  noticed  what  I  afterwards  had  occasion  frequently 
to  observe  in  all  the  glaciers  of  Mount  Sorata — the  curi- 
ously dry,  stony  appearance  of  the  ice,  which  looked  more 
like  granite  than  compacted  snow.  This  dryness,  as 
already  explained,  is  due  to  the  rapidity  of  evapora- 
tion over  high  tropical  glaciers.  With  every  aspect 
of  insecurity  in  the  form  of  overhanging  soracs  and  in- 
credibly steep  ice-slopes,  there  was  yet  an  unbroken 

184 


HAUKA5JA  PEAK    AND    GLACIER 


OF  THE     '^ 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


FIRST   ATTEMPT   ON   MOUNT    SORATA 

stillness,  indicating  that  falling  ice  and  other  violent 
movements  were  of  rare  occurrence.  There  was  no  sing- 
ing of  the  running  waters,  no  slipping  about  of  stones, 
no  cracking  in  the  substance  of  the  glacier;  in  fact,  no 
sign  or  sound  of  movement,  such  as  the  glaciers  of  the 
Alps  are  always  emitting.  In  all  the  days  we  spent 
among  the  great  ice-falls  of  Mount  Sorata  I  never  saw  or 
heard  the  fall  of  the  least  fragment  of  ice.  At  times 
stones  fell  down  the  dry  debris  slopes  near  us,  and  then 
the  Indians  would  cower  with  terror,  saying  that  the 
devil  was  walking  across  the  slope  and  that  the  stones 
were  disturbed  by  the  tread  of  his  feet.  The  guides  roared 
with  laughter  at  this  explanation,  and  their  amusement 
presently  affected  the  Indians,  who  for  the  rest  of  the 
day  ceased  to  manifest  signs  of  fear. 

We  thus  rose  to  the  point  where  the  edge  of  the  hill-side 
on  our  right  came  down  to  the  level  of  the  ice,  and  where 
the  glacier  surged  up  against  it  in  splintered  and  broken 
masses  like  the  turmoil  of  a  tumbling  wave.  There 
was  just  a  crack  between  the  overhanging  ice  and  the 
rocks,  and  along  this  we  crept,  thus  gaining  access  to  the 
other  side  of  the  dividing  ridge,  and  reaching  the  edge 
of  the  Ancohuma  Glacier  by  a  short,  steep,  rock  descent. 
A  climb  of  twenty  minutes  led  to  a  small  tooth  of  rock, 
a  continuation  of  the  dividing  ridge.  Here  we  found  a 
little  hollow,  where  tents  could  be  pitched  in  excellent 
shelter.  The  luggage  and  the  sledge  being  thus  transport- 
ed to  an  altitude  of  nearly  1 8,000  feet,  the  work  of  the 
Indians  was  done,  and  they  returned  to  the  base-camp. 

No  sooner  were  the  tents  pitched  than  the  first  of  a 
series  of  snow -showers  fell.  The  temperature  kept 
rising  and  falling.     When  the  sun  shone  it  was  over- 

185 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

poweringly  hot;  and  when  a  snow-shower  passed  over, 
the  cold  was  suddenly  intense.  Heavy  clouds  were 
hanging  on  the  hills.  They  presently  flocked  together 
into  a  gloomy  roof,  depressing  to  the  spirits  and  auguring 
ill  for  the  morrow.  As  I  sat  watching  the  changes  of 
the  scene,  I  asked  myself  more  than  once  whether  the 
game  was  worth  the  candle,  for  there  was  something 
so  cold  and  unsympathetic  about  the  gloom  and  the 
ice  and  the  bare  rocks  that  for  a  time  it  weighed  like 
a  nightmare  upon  my  spirits.  But  when  the  clouds 
broke  a  little,  revealing  the  ocherous  plain  with  its 
ever-varying  colors  and  the  constant  movement  of 
clouds  and  cloud  shadows  upon  it,  depression  passed 
away,  and  I  lay  motionless  and  happy  on  the  tip  of  the 
rock  tooth,  enjoying  the  play  of  nature's  mood.  There 
was  no  sound  save  the  pricking  of  the  snow  as  it  fell 
on  the  roof  of  the  tents. 

As  far  as  the  effects  of  altitude  were  concerned,  I 
was  comfortable  enough;  yet  it  cannot  be  said  that 
we  were  in  no  sense  incommoded  by  it.  All  three  were 
disproportionately  fatigued  by  the  ascent,  and  were 
disinclined  for  any  activity.  Lying  on  the  ground 
I  counted  my  breaths — twenty-one  and  a  half  to  the 
minute — breaths  deep  and  audible  as  of  a  man  asleep. 
The  guides  were  breathing  in  the  same  manner.  Be- 
fore half  the  afternoon  was  over  we  were  rested,  and 
the  men  set  out,  as  guides  always  will  in  strange  places, 
to  hunt  for  gold.  Nor  did  they  have  far  to  go,  for  all 
that  glittered  was  gold  in  their  eyes,  and  they  were  soon 
the  glad  possessors  of  a  number  of  specimens  full  of 
mica  spangles.  On  the  rocks  round  camp  was  no  vege- 
tation.    The  last  plants  we  had  passed  were  two  or 

i86 


THE    COL    NEAR    ROCKTOOTH    CAMP 


haukaR'A  peak 


//^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


FIRST   ATTEMPT   ON   MOUNT   SORATA 

three  hundred  feet  below  the  col.  The  only  specimens 
of  life  we  beheld  were  a  few  tiny  midges,  which  tickled 
our  faces  and  drowned  themselves  in  the  marmalade 
pot  at  tea.  After  sunset,  when  the  tents  were  closed, 
we  heard  the  cry  of  a  bird  fluttering  around. 

Little  did  we  suspect,  as  we  lay  that  night  in  our  warm 
reindeer-skin  sleeping-bags,  what  was  going  on  below 
at  the  base-camp.  Thus  far  our  relations  with  the 
Indians  had  been  pleasant  enough.  Though  we  had 
heard  many  stories  about  their  unreliability,  and  had 
noticed  that  all  travellers  on  the  Puna  went  about 
armed  to  the  teeth,  we  had  seen  nothing  to  suggest 
any  necessity  for  precautions.  This  night,  however, 
a  party  of  superstitious  natives  crept  up  in  the  dark, 
intending  to  murder  us  in  our  sleep.  They  came  from 
the  village  of  Chiara-huyo,  the  hostile  neighbor  of 
Umapusa.  The  men  believed  that  we  had  come  to 
profane  the  sanctuaries  of  the  mountain  gods.  If,  as 
they  had  heard,  it  was  our  intention  to  climb  to  the 
summit  of  Illampu,  they  had  no  doubt  at  all  but  that 
we  intended  to  carry  away  the  great  cross  of  gold  and 
bull  of  gold  which  tradition  asserts  to  have  been  planted 
there.  Fortunately  for  all  parties,  we  were  not  to  be 
found,  so  the  visit  passed  off  peacefully ;  for,  of  course, 
to  come  up  after  us  into  the  snowy  regions  was  an  ad- 
venture they  never  dreamed  of  attempting. 

Next  morning  the  weather  was  bad,  a  northwesterly 
gale  blowing  high  aloft  and  the  clouds  edd3dng  about 
on  the  mountain-side  in  bewildering  fashion.  But  by 
noon  a  temporary  clearance  took  place,  so  we  loaded 
up  the  sledge  and  started  out.  Before  we  had  gone  far 
the  storm  settled  down  again  even  worse  than  before. 

187 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

The  four  hours  that  followed  were  a  time  of  violent  and 
distressing  labor  both  for  the  guides  and  me;  for  the 
glacier,  which  below  had  looked  so  smooth  and  gentle, 
proved  to  be  neither.  The  slopes  from  the  very  start 
were  so  steep  that  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  raise  the 
sledge  little  by  little.  To  begin  with,  we  attached  our- 
selves together  by  a  climbing  -  rope  in  the  orthodox 
fashion,  so  that  if  one  fell  into  a  crevasse  the  others 
might  be  able  to  pull  him  out,  but  the  rope  incommoded 
our  efforts  in  dragging  the  sledge,  and  was  very  soon 
cast  off.  After  trying  a  variety  of  adjustments,  the 
guides  found  it  best  to  walk  side  by  side,  each  with  a 
drag-rope  over  his  shoulder  and  their  arms  linked 
together  like  affectionate  brothers,  while  I  pushed  be- 
hind and  was  ready  to  stop  the  sledge  from  slipping 
back  at  our  frequent  halts. 

Curiously  enough,  none  of  us  this  day  felt  so  much 
oppression  from  the  altitude  as  we  had  felt  the  day 
before;  and  the  same  was  the  case  a  fortnight  later, 
when  we  returned  up  these  slopes.  Alike  on  Illimani, 
and  both  times  on  Sorata,  we  suffered  more  in  the  first 
struggle  up  to  about  18,000  feet  than  we  suffered 
from  there  to  20,000,  though  above  20,000  the  labor 
became  yet  more  severe.  The  reason  I  imagine  to 
have  been  the  same  in  both  cases — namely,  that  up  to 
18,000  feet  the  line  of  ascent  was  in  an  enclosed  valley, 
where  the  air  had  the  character  described  by  old  moun- 
taineers as  ''stagnant.''  All  too  soon  there  came  cre- 
vasses involving  devious  zigzags  and  painful  search 
for  snow  bridges.  Then  followed  a  snow  slope  where 
different  tactics  were  adopted.  The  whole  length  of 
rope  in  our  possession  was  stretched  out,  one  end  at- 

188 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


FIRST   ATTEMPT   ON   MOUNT    SORATA 

tached  to  the  sledge,  the  other  carried  up  by  us  to  its 
full  stretch.  Then,  standing  together,  we  hauled  the 
sledge  up,  and  by  repetitions  of  the  process  attained 
the  next  level  of  crevasses.  A  more  serious  impediment 
had  now  to  be  overcome,  for  these  crevasses  were  of 
enormous  width  and  stretched  from  the  precipitous 
face  of  the  Haukana  Peak,  on  our  left,  right  across  to 
an  impassable  strip  of  ice-fall  on  our  right.  Fortu- 
nately, we  always  found  a  snow-bridge  of  some  kind, 
though  in  the  case  of  four  big  crevasses  that  followed 
one  another  in  quick  succession,  the  only  bridges  were 
flung  across  frqm  one  side  to  the  other  as  an  irregular 
floor  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  down  below  the  lip  of  the 
crevasse.  The  sledge  had  thus  to  be  let  down  to  this 
crazy  platform,  dragged  across  the  irregular  and  treach- 
erous surface  below,  and  then  hauled  up  again  with  in- 
credible toil  on  the  far  side.  Such  work  soon  tires  a 
man  at  over  19,000  feet. 

The  only  explanation  I  can  offer  for  this  series  of 
depressed  bridges  is  the  following :  Assume  that  at  the 
close  of  a  dry  season  one  of  the  crevasses  is  open,  and 
that  during  the  next  wet  season  it  is  plugged  with  a 
wedge-shaped  snow-bridge,  represented  by  the  shaded 
area  in  Fig.  i  on  next  page.  In  the  following  dry 
season,  as  the  glacier  advances  over  a  convex  bed  of 
rock,  the  crevasse  will  widen,  and  the  wedge-shaped 
plug  may  thus  descend  ten  or  fifteen  feet  into  the 
crevasse  (Fig.  2).  Such,  at  any  rate,  was  the  character 
of  the  bridges  we  had  to  cross. 

Arrived  at  a  point  a  little  short  of  20,000  feet,  we  had 
done  all  we  could.  There,  in  the  midst  of  the  snow- 
field,  under  shelter  of  a  blue  wall  of  ice,  we  set  up  our 

189 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

tent  and  arranged  to  pass  the  night.  With  the  petro- 
leum stove  snow  was  melted  and  boiled,  and  a  light 
meal  prepared.  As  night  came  on  the  storm  continued 
to  blow,  clouds  and  darkness  gathered,  and  snow  began 
to  fall.     But  we  crept  into  our  sleeping-bags  and  grew 


Fig.  I  Fig.  2 

warm  and  oblivious  to  the  bitter  cold  without.  I  at 
once  dropped  off  to  sleep.  Not  so  the  others,  whose  con- 
fidence in  the  firmness  of  the  tent  was  less  well-founded 
on  experience  than  mine.  The  wind  rose  to  a  gale,  the 
tent-ropes  sang  like  harp-strings,  the  sides  of  the  tent 
bulged  and  strained,  and  the  men  thought  that  they  were 
every  moment  going  to  be  blown  away.  Not  till  early 
in  the  morning  did  the  force  of  the  tempest  somewhat 
abate.  When  day  broke  we  looked  forth  to  find  our 
shelter  almost  snowed  under.  A  dense  fog  hung  over  us, 
and  snow  was  still  falling.  Now  and  then  the  clouds 
broke  and  showed  that  fresh  snow  was  lying  even  down 
on  the  Puna.  Under  such  conditions  our  chances  of 
making  a  successful  ascent  this  day  were  gone,  for 
the  final  peak  was  too  steep  to  be  trifled  with. 

As  the  morning  advanced  the  weather  seemed  to  be 
settling;  the  sun  shone  fitfully  forth,  and  presently  a 
view  was  obtained  of  the  turquoise  expanse  of  Lake 

190 


FIRST   ATTEMPT   ON   MOUNT   SORATA 

Titicaca  beyond  the  white  snow-field  and  the  snow- 
speckled  outer  bastion  of  our  mountain.  As  the  sky 
cleared,  the  bright,  new-fallen  snow  all  round  shone 
brilliantly  beneath  it.  All  traces  of  the  discomfort  we 
had  suffered  the  previous  evening  from  the  altitude  had 
passed  away  in  the  long  rest  of  the  night;  we  were  ready 
and  eager  to  be  at  work.  Though  it  was  too  late  and 
the  snow  was  too  fresh  for  our  ascent,  we  still  deter- 
mined to  make  a  reconnaissance.  One  more  big  and 
several  smaller  crevasses  were  passed  above  the  camp 
before  we  gained  the  edge  of  the  gently  sloping  plateau 
that  stretched  away  at  the  foot  of  our  peak ;  the  snow 
upon  it  was  deep  and  soft  and  the  distance  to  the  foot 
of  the  final  wall  proved  to  be  far  greater  than  we  had 
imagined.  Unfortunately,  clouds  still  masked  the  cul- 
minating slope,  but  they  were  clouds  that  formed  and 
faded,  bending  this  way  and  that  and  crawling  about 
on  the  snowy  face,  so  that,  as  we  sat  and  watched  for 
an  hour  or  two,  we  obtained  a  sight  of  almost  all  the 
details,  and  Maquignaz  was  hopeful  that  he  had  traced 
a  practicable  route  to  the  very  summit.  I  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  so  doing,  but  put  trust  in  his  forecast,  and  en- 
tertained the  hope  of  completing  the  ascent  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  While  we  were  sitting  on  our  axe-heads, 
planted  in  the  snow,  a  faint  mist  came  over,  and  imme- 
diately we  were  in  a  burning,  fiery  furnace.  Instinc- 
tively, we  covered  our  faces  in  our  coats  and  pressed  our 
hands  to  our  eyes.  It  was  a  scalding  moment.  The 
mist  was  very  transparent,  and  we  could  see  the  hills 
through  it.  It  passed  in  a  few  minutes,  and  the  cool  air 
returned.  Having  no  more  observations  to  make,  we 
ran  quickly  back  to  camp. 

191 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
VISIT   TO   SORATA   TOWN 

BAD  weather  now  rapidly  set  in.  Clouds  regathered, 
snow  began  to  fall,  and  wind  to  blow ;  so  at  four 
in  the  afternoon,  leaving  the  sledge,  the  tent,  the 
sleeping-bags,  and  all  the  food,  we  set  forth  to  run  down 
and  await  better  conditions  at  a  more  comfortable  level. 
After  only  twenty  minutes  of  very  quick  running,  we 
reached  the  middle  camp,  from  which  the  ascent  had 
occupied  over  four  hours.  Leaving  the  guides  there  to 
pack  what  was  not  required,  I  ran  on  and  entered  camp 
t)y  6.30  P.M.  The  Indians  rushed  up  to  me,  kissed  my 
hands,  and  hurried  off  with  great  willingness  to  meet  the 
guides  and  relieve  them  of  their  loads.  The  bad  weather 
had  frightened  them  for  our  safety,  and  the  arriero  was 
loud  in  explanation  of  the  horrors  of  the  previous  night 
from  Indians  and  snow.  ''  The  whole  Puna  this  morn- 
ing,'' he  said,  displaying  a  very  dirty  shirt-sleeve,  ''was 
as  white  as  this.'' 

Next  night  the  storm  was  worse  than  ever.  Obvi- 
ously, the  weather  was  fairly  broken.  With  this  quan- 
tity of  new  snow  the  mountain  would  not  be  in  condition 
for  an  ascent  for  some  days.  It  was  snowing  when 
we  awoke  on  the  25th  of  September,  and  stones  were 
falling  down  the  debris  slopes  in  such  numbers  that 
many  devils  would  have  been  required  to  account  for 

192 


THE 


OF 

.PALIFO 


RV^ 


VISIT   TO    SORATA   TOWN 

them.  To-day  we  learned  that  the  arriero  shared  the 
superstition  of  the  Indians.  He  declared  that  on  lUi- 
mani  he  had  actually  seen  two  devils  kicking  the  stones 
down,  and  that  they  had  long  horns  like  a  deer;  but 
Maquignaz  told  him  that  that  was  nothing,  for  up  at  the 
top  camp  he  had  seen  a  black  devil  of  extraordinary 
dimensions,  which  he  proceeded  to  describe,  whereupon 
the  arriero  said  he  would  like  to  make  haste  down  to 
a  level  inhabited  by  more  respectable  persons. 

Leaving  the  camping-ground  carpeted  with  snow,  we 
marched  away,  preceded  by  one  of  the  Indians  playing 
on  his  pipe.  We  missed  the  path  we  came  by,  and  struck 
another  which  led  us  out  on  to  so  steep  a  face  of  the  hill 
that  my  stirrup  as  I  rode  actually  scraped  against  the 
rock.  Our  descent  was  without  incident  till  we  ap- 
proached the  fields  of  Fraskiya,  where  a  man  was  plough- 
ing a  field  with  a  couple  of  bulls.  At  this  moment 
Maquignaz  fired  at  a  bird,  and  so  frightened  the  bulls 
that  they  took  flight,  and  scoured  the  country  with  the 
plough  flying  loose  behind  them  and  the  ploughman  in 
wild  pursuit,  to  the  immense  delight  of  our  arriero,  who 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  ''Arunca  toro!  arunca 
toro!''  At  Umapusa  the  heavy  clouds  were  tearing 
overhead  in  the  embrace  of  contending  winds,  and  fog 
was  drifting  about  on  the  hill-side.  We  were  informed 
that  morning  that  at  Umapusa  itself  snow  had  been 
lying  a  span  deep,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  inhabi- 
tants. Such  weather  in  September  is  almost  unknown 
on  the  Puna.  What  could  be  the  reason?  The  Indians 
were  in  no  doubt.  It  was  because  the  gringos  had  pro- 
faned the  abode  of  the  gods  on  Illampu,  and  were  being 
driven  out  by  supernatural  intervention. 
N  193 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

Two  youths,  dressed  in  brand-new  cowboy  attire, 
wearing  leather  breeches,  fringed  all  down  the  sides 
with  little  leather  ribbons,  and  bristling  with  revolvers, 
cartridge-belts,  and  rifles,  were  halting  awhile  at  the 
posada.  They  greeted  me  with  a  welcome  bottle  of 
beer.  I  thought  highly  of  them  in  consequence,  but 
the  arriero  would  have  it  that  they  were  men  of  no  ac- 
count. ''For,''  he  said,  in  his  proud  fashion,  ''I  saw 
them  eat,  and  they  fed  like  dogs.''  It  was  by  no  means 
easy  to  win  approval  from  our  muleteer.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  humble  station  and  rough  mode  of  life,  he  was  a 
man  of  no  little  dignity  of  character  and  a  fine  manner. 
He  struck  up  a  warm  friendship  with  polite  Louis  Pellis- 
sier.  Though  neither  of  them  knew  the  other's  lan- 
guage, they  contrived  to  understand  each  other  re- 
markably well,  but  their  intercourse  was  of  a  very  formal 
kind.  "  Sefior  Don  Luisi,  have  the  kindness  to  support 
this  box  on  your  head,"  was  the  request  I  overheard 
the  arriero  make  when  he  needed  assistance  in  loading 
a  mule.  It  was  only  in  moments  of  great  intimacy,  or 
on  the  occasion  of  a  sudden  need,  that  he  would  call 
him  Luisi  without  prefix.  During  the  course  of  the 
afternoon  he  described  to  me  the  coming  of  the  Indians 
to  their  camp,  and  how  they  disappeared  when  they 
found  that  we  were  away.  ''Caesar,"  he  said,  "was  all 
of  a  tremble  with  fright,  but  not  I,  for  I  have  been  a 
soldier  and  know  no  fear." 

The  bad  weather  continuing,  I  decided  to  fill  the  time 
by  crossing  the  pass  north  of  Mount  Sorata  and  visiting 
the  other  side  of  the  range.  Accordingly,  next  day 
we  left  our  mountaineering  kit  behind  in  the  posada 
and  set  forth  with  our  caravan.     The  road  took  us  close 

194 


VISIT   TO    SORATA   TOWN 

by  the  village  of  the  hostile  Indians,  but  they  were  all 
out  working  in  the  fields  and  did  not  observe  us.  At 
Huarisata,  a  few  miles  on,  we  struck  into  the  main  high- 
way from  Achacache  to  the  Huallata  Pass.  From  this 
village  to  the  top  the  road  ascended  a  valley  along  the 
west  foot  of  a  series  of  mounded  hills,  on  whose  summits 
a  number  of  huge  ice-borne  bowlders  were  observed. 
Where  the  naked  rock  was  uncovered  it  had  evidently 
been  rounded  by  ice,  a  proof  that  the  glaciers  of  Mount 
Sorata  once  extended  as  far  as  these  hills.  The  road, 
with  its  many  furrows  deeply  worn  into  the  hill-side,  was 
apparently  an  ancient  track.  Indeed,  if  one  were  to 
seek  for  the  position  most  probably  followed  by  a  pre- 
historic trade-route  across  the  Andes,  it  is  exactly  here 
that  one  would  naturally  expect  to  find  it,  for  the  valleys 
to  the  eastward  of  Mount  Sorata,  especially  the  Tipuani 
Valley,  are  rich  in  gold,  and  have  evidently  been  worked 
for  gold  from  the  most  ancient  days  We  know  that 
in  the  time  of  the  Inca  civilization  gold-mining  was  ac- 
tively carried  on.  Bearing  in  mind  the  foniier  large 
population  of  the  Titicaca  neighborhood,  and  the  an- 
cient tradition  which  points  to  the  basin  of  the  lake  as 
an  important  old  centre  of  civilization,  it  is  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Tipuani  gravels  supplied  no  small  fraction 
of  the  gold  that  made  the  precious  imitation  plants  of 
the  gardens  of  the  Incas.  At  that  time  the  important 
town  on  the  eastward  side  of  the  pass  was  doubtless 
Illabaya.  Sorata  town  may  have  been  a  later  founda- 
tion. 

The  road  ascends  slowly,  and  is  as  uninteresting  a 
route  as  can  be  imagined,  for  the  low  hills  to  the  right 
shut  out  all  view  of  the  high  mountains,  while  to  the  left 

195 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

another  range  of  hills  hides  the  waters  of  the  great  lake. 
We  did  not  then  know  that  on  the  other  side  of  the  line 
of  mounded  hills  there  runs  a  parallel  track  commanding 
some  of  the  most  magnificent  mountain  scenery  in  the 
world.  This  day,  however,  was  no  day  for  views ;  long 
before  we  reached  the  top  of  the  pass,  clouds  had  come 
down  upon  us  and  snow  -was  gently  falling.  Under 
such  chilly  circumstances,  it  was  strange  to  meet  an 
almost  continuous  procession  of  natives  coming  over 
from  the  tropical  east,  bearing  canes  in  leaf  and  other 
arboreal  decorations  wherewith  to  embellish  the  fete  that 
was  due  in  a  day  or  two.  By  the  road-side,  sheltering 
from  cold  under  the  lee  of  little  walls  of  stones,  were 
parties  of  Indians  engaged  in  making  cane  pipes  for 
sale.  These  Indians,  I  thought,  regarded  us  resent- 
fully ;  never  a  salutation  came  from  them  nor  a  glance 
of  human  recognition. 

Though  the  attitude  of  the  Indians  to  the  whites  differs 
rather  markedly  in  outward  expression  in  different 
localities,  a  deep-rooted  hostility  appears  to  exist  be- 
tween the  races.  Those  who  know  the  Indians  best 
love  them  least.  ''There  is  no  gratitude  in  an  Indian,'' 
they  say.  "You  may  love  a  dog,  or  even  a  donkey, 
but  a  mule  or  an  Indian,  never.''  In  the  year  1866  the 
Indians  were  attacked  and  decimated  by  an  epidemic 
fever,  from  which  the  whites  were  exempt.  It  is  on 
record  that  the  Indians  made  persevering  efforts  on 
this  occasion  to  infect  the  superior  race.  Whenever 
Indian  risings  have  taken  place  they  have  been  accom- 
panied by  atrocities  committed  on  the  whites  too  appall- 
ing to  be  written  down.  Not  unnaturally  their  suppres- 
sion has  likewise  been  sanguinary.    After  I  left  Bolivia 

iq6 


VISIT   TO   SORATA   TOWN 

in  1898  some  sporadic  Indian  risings  took  place  and 
frightful  atrocities  were  perpetrated,  the  victims  being 
for  the  most  part  half-breeds.  Such  incidents  are, 
however,  relatively  rare.  As  long  as  the  white  popu- 
lation stands  together  they  can  easily  control  the 
Indians.  It  is  only  in  times  of  revolution  that  the 
lower  race  gets  a  chance  of  revolting.  This  well  rec- 
ognized fact  is  the  great  preventive  of  serious  revolu- 
tions in  Bolivia. 

The  highest  level  of  the  road  passes  two  or  three  pools 
of  water,  or  swamps,  representing  wet-season  ponds,  and 
so  leads  up  to  the  Huallata  Pass  (14,  no  feet,  Pentland). 
The  descent  begins  with  a  long  circling  track  that  keeps 
near  the  top  of  an  unimportant  ridge,  dividing  the  basin 
of  Illabaya  from  that  of  Sorata  town.  The  sudden 
change,  alike  in  the  character  of  the  sparse  vegetation 
and  in  the  quality  of  the  air,  was  more  convincing  proof 
that  we  had  crossed  the  watershed  than  any  immediately 
perceptible  downward  sloping  of  the  way.  But  very 
soon  we  passed  beneath  the  level  of  the  clouds,  and 
looked  along  their  flat  underside  as  under  a  ceiling. 
The  picturesque  town  of  Illabaya  came  in  view,  and  the 
slopes  of  the  valley,  rich  in  forest,  appearing  astonish- 
ingly fertile  to  our  eyes,  so  long  accustomed  to  the  bare- 
ness of  deserts.  All  the  way  down  to  Illabaya,  and  some 
distance  below  it,  the  forms  of  the  rock  surfaces  showed 
strongly  marked  glaciation.  Here,  in  former  days, 
an  immense  ice-fall  must  have  poured  down,  while  the 
neighboring  valley  of  Sorata  likewise  was  occupied, 
at  the  same  time,  by  a  glacier  of  enormous  dimen- 
sions. 

A  romantic  feeling  always  accompanies  the  descent 

197 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

from  a  high  mountain  region  to  hot  and  fertile  valleys. 
It  is  the  charm  that  every  one  knows  who  has  exchanged 
the  Alps  in  a  period  of  storm  for  the  Italian  lakes. 
Through  such  a  transition,  though  with  more  marked  ex- 
tension of  bareness  above  and  richer  fertility  below,  did 
we  descend  this  day.  Here  and  there  we  encountered  rem- 
nants of  the  old  paved  and  staircased  road  of  pre-Span- 
ish  days.  The  little  Carapata  Pass  (10,790  feet,  Pentland) 
carried  us  over  the  intervening  rib  and  gave  access  to 
the  Sorata  basin.  Then  there  was  only  a  long,  zigzag 
descent  down  a  straight  hill-side  to  the  bed  of  the  valley 
below.  We  passed  houses  of  more  comfortable  char- 
acter than  those  of  the  high  plateau,  and  gardens  bright 
with  geraniums  and  all  manner  of  flowers.  Thus  we 
came  to  a  pretty  old  stone  bridge  spanning  the  torrent, 
with  a  picturesque  mill  beside  it,  reminiscent  of  Italy 
or  Spain.  A  short,  steep  ascent  on  the  other  side  led 
in  half  an  hour  to  the  beautifully  placed  town  of  Sorata, 
which  sits,  as  it  were,  at  the  very  hem  of  the  skirt  of  111- 
ampu,  on  a  jutting  point  of  land  close  above  the  junc- 
tion of  two  of  the  principal  torrents  that  drain  its 
glaciers. 

Few  towns  in  the  world  enjoy  a  more  magnificent 
position.  On  either  side  are  beautiful  slopes,  reaching 
aloft  to  fine  crests  of  hills;  straight  in  front  there 
stretches  away  the  purple  hollow  of  the  deep  Mapiri 
Valley;  while  behind,  the  mighty  precipices  of  Mount 
Sorata  fling  themselves  aloft  a  sheer  14,000  feet  to  their 
crown  of  ice,  and  the  protruding  buttress  named  Illampu 
almost  seems  to  overhang.  The  climate  is  as  near  per- 
fection as  climate  can  be,  with  never  any  great  heat  or 
biting  cold,  but  generally  so  caressing  a  mildness  in  the 

198 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


VISIT   TO    SORATA   TOWN 

air  that  the  defence  of  window-glass  is  dispensed  with 
in  many  of  the  houses.*  The  mountain  torrents  yield 
a  constant  supply  of  excellent  water,  which  irrigates 
the  fertile  soil ;  gardens  produce  almost  every  fruit  that 
is  asked  of  them,  and  a  succession  of  the  brightest  flow- 
ers. If  nature  were  better  seconded  by  man  at  this  chosen 
spot,  there  is  hardly  a  limit  to  the  beautiful  results  that 
might  be  attained.  Even  as  it  is,  the  little  town,  with 
its  gay  square  and  comfortable  houses,  is  an  unusually 
pleasant  place  of  abode.  Such  was  the  opinion  of  sev- 
eral Europeans  who  make  it  their  home;  for  Sorata  is 
an  important  centre  of  trade,  and  is  destined  one  day  to 
become  much  more  important.  The  tracks  leading 
eastward  from  it  over  the  next  rib  that  descends  from 
Illampu  are  the  necessary  lines  of  approach  both  to  the 
gold-bearing  valleys  and  the  wonderful  india-rubber 
forests  of  the  Tipuani,  Mapiri,  and  Kaka  districts.  It 
was  for  the  purpose  of  making  inquiries  into  the  com- 
mercial prospects  of  this  region  that  I  had  come  to  the 
place. 

As  if  to  prove  that  Sorata  was  a  centre  of  civilization, 
I  was  greeted  on  my  arrival  by  a  newspaper  reporter, 
demanding  an  interview.  Pending  the  publication  of 
the  weekly  paper,  the  reporter's  remarks  were  written 
out  in  a  clerkly  hand  and  posted  up  on  the  saloon  wall ! 
He  was  succeeded  by  a  large  and  friendly  dog,  who  ex- 
tended his  patronage  to  me  during  the  time  of  my  stay, 
and  with  whom  I  took  many  a  pleasant  stroll.  He 
seemed  to  be  nobody's  dog  in  particular,  but  enjoyed 
a  large  circle  of  acquaintances,  and  was  familiar  with 

*  Weddell,  however,  records  having  found  the  place  cold  and  damp 
in  the  month  of  August. 

199 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  principal  men  of  the  town,  while  ignoring  all  com- 
moner folk.  I  spent  a  pleasant  evening  in  his  company, 
seated  in  the  public  garden,  by  the  plashing  leaden 
fountain,  decorated  with  carved  swans  supporting  the 
basin,  and  the  statue  of  a  local  celebrity  crowning  the 
whole.  Bananas,  cabbages,  and  vines,  roses,  gerani- 
ums, and  arum  lilies  shared  the  impartial  beds,  and  all 
manner  of  wild  flowers  grew  between  the  cobble-stones 
of  the  paths.  The  whole  town  is  rich  in  eucalyptus- 
trees,  which  distinguish  it  even  when  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance. The  Indian  streets  were  choked  with  pigs,  and 
every  other  house  was  a  shop  for  the  sale  of  chicha,  bad 
spirits,  and  coca,  a  small  centre  of  nightly  intoxication  ; 
for,  no  matter  what  other  trade  a  man  may  have,  he  is 
sure  to  add  to  it  the  sale  of  chicha.  In  the  neighborhood 
of  the  square  were  several  large  European  stores,  offering 
chiefly  German  goods  for  sale,  while  the  commonest 
notice  stuck  up  in  the  windows  was  ''  Here  we  buy  india- 
rubber."  A  German  merchant,  Herr  Gunther,  kindly 
took  me  under  his  wing  and  made  me  his  guest  during 
the  time  of  my  stay.  He  owns  an  india-rubber  forest 
in  the  Mapiri  district.  I  likewise  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  most  of  the  representatives  in  Sorata  of  the 
other  forest  proprietors  of  Mapiri. 

In  the  billiard-room  of  the  inn  that  night  I  met  a  curi- 
ous assemblage  of  persons,  including  several  old  in- 
habitants of  the  town,  and  an  Irishman,  who  had  spent 
fourteen  years  as  manager  of  a  rubber  forest,  and  had 
come  over  for  a  week's  holiday  in  this  wild  centre  of 
civilized  dissipation.  Many  were  the  stories  they  told 
me  about  the  old  days,  vague  traditions  even  stretching 
back  to  the  last  century,  when  the  great  Indian  rising 

200 


VISIT   TO   SORATA   TOWN 

took  place  and  Sorata  was  besieged  by  thousands  of 
these  revolted  savages.  The  small  number  of  Spanish 
inhabitants  defended  themselves  bravely  for  a  long 
time  against  overwhelming  numbers,  till  the  Indians, 
with  malicious  ingenuity,  formed  an  artificial  lake  in 
the  slope  above  the  town,  gathering  into  it  an  immense 
body  of  water.  Suddenly  breaking  down  the  dam, 
they  let  the  water  rush  upon  the  town,  carrying  down 
with  it  a  mass  of  mud  and  rocks.  The  mud-avalanche 
thus  formed  burst  upon  the  place,  breaking  through 
the  defences  and  sweeping  away  all  the  houses  in  its 
path.  The  Indians  poured  in  through  the  breach  and 
massacred  every  individual  in  the  place,  man,  woman, 
and  child. 

We  talked  of  Illampu  and  of  the  chances  of  ascending 
it.  Thus  far  clouds  had  not  permitted  me  to  behold  it 
from  tliis  point. 

''You  have  come  at  the  wrong  time  for  that,''  they 
said.  "  In  the  dry  weather,  in  June  and  July,  there  is 
never  a  cloud  upon  the  mountain,  and  we  see  it  clear 
from  base  to  summit,  day  after  day;  and  a  splendid 
sight  it  is.  At  sunset  it  grows  red  and  shines  out 
against  the  sky.'' 

''I  remember,"  said  one  man,  ''late  at  night,  thirty 
years  ago,  long  after  the  sun  had  set  and  darkness 
had  come  on,  Illampu  glowed  red  like  fire,  and  all  the 
people  in  the  town  saw  it.  Such  a  sight  none  had 
ever  beheld.  In  great  terror  they  ran  to  the  church  and 
the  bells  were  rung.  They  thought  the  end  of  the  world 
was  come.  Presently  lightning  and  storm  burst  upon 
us,  an4  the  lightning  flashed  without  cessation,  so  that 
it  was  like  day,  and  we  could  see  everything  upon  all  the 

201 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

hills  around.  That  was  the  most  frightful  storm  that 
any  man  remembers.  It  was  a  famous  event,  and  the 
news  of  it  went  all  over  South  America,  so  that  you  will 
find  accounts  of  it  in  the  newspapers  of  the  time." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  RUBBER  INDUSTRY 

MY  position  in  Bolivia  as  a  scientific  explorer  com- 
mended to  the  consideration  of  the  government, 
placed  me  in  an  exceptionally  good  position  for 
obtaining  information  about  the  undeveloped  resources 
of  the  country  and  the  attitude  of  the  leading  men  tow- 
ards foreigners  and  foreign  enterprise.  I  soon  learned 
that  it  was  the  desire  of  men  of  all  political  parties  to 
attract  foreign,  and  particularly  English  and  United 
States,  capital,  in  order  to  open  up  the  great  mineral 
and  other  wealth  of  the  country,  which  local  capital 
does  not  avail  to  exploit.  The  mines,  forests,  and  com- 
mimications  of  Bolivia  are  mainly  undeveloped.  Gold, 
silver,  copper,  tin,  antimony,  and  other  metals  exist  in 
profusion  in  its  valleys  and  mountains.  There  is  a 
large  Indian  population  existing  on  the  verge  of  penury, 
and  working  for  a  very  low  and  uncertain  daily  wage. 
Security  for  property  is  jgood.  Thus,  large  silver-mines 
at  Huanchaca,  Potosi,  and  Oruro  have  been  worked  for 
many  years  by  English  and  other  companies  most  prof- 
itably, without  impediment  from  the  government,  which 
has  never  manifested  any  inclination  to  confiscate  by 
fiscal  injustice  the  results  of  commercial  enterprise. 

Some  trouble  has  at  times  been  experienced  in  re- 
spect of  the  titles  to  property.     This  is  not  owing  to 

203 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  law,  but  to  actual  doubts  about  who  the  owner 
of  the  title  may  be.  Different  prospectors,  or  their  heirs, 
possess,  or  think  themselves  to  possess,  overlapping 
claims,  especially  to  mining  properties  in  uninhabited 
regions,  and  the  disputes  thence  arising  lead  to  inter- 
minable lawsuits,  which  paralyze  industry.  Thus, 
in  practice,  the  establishment  of  a  good  title  may  often 
prove  costly.  Lands  or  claims  in  old  occupation,  but 
now  un worked,  or  little  worked,  are  liable  to  have  doubt- 
ful titles,  which,  however,  it  is  no  one's  interest  to  dis- 
pute till  some  wealthy  individual  or  corporation  buys 
them  from  the  apparent  owner  and  spends  money  on 
their  development.  But  lands  such  as  the  rubber 
forests,  to  which  I  shall  presently  refer  at  length,  which 
have  never  passed  out  of  the  public  domain  into  private 
ownership  at  all  till  quite  recently,  and  under  the  pro- 
visions of  acts  of  the  legislature,  are  now  owned  by  an 
indefeasible  title  which  no  one  attempts  to  dispute. 

It  is  only  since  1878  or  thereabouts  that  the  existence 
of  rubber  in  the  eastern  forest  region  has  been  known. 
Legislation  was  passed,  in  consequence  of  the  discovery, 
defining  the  manner  in  which  these  lands  may  be  ac- 
quired. A  small  annual  rent  per  estrada  must  be  paid 
to  the  government,  and  the  lands  taken  up  must  be 
registered,  with  a  map  of  the  area.  The  annual  rent 
may  at  any  time  be  commuted  at  a  fixed  rate,  after  which 
commutation  the  land  becomes  the  freehold  property 
of  the  purchaser.  If  the  annual  instalments  are  not 
paid,  the  land  lapses  to  the  government.  Thus  the 
MoUendo  rubber  forests  ought  now  to  be  owned  on  an 
indefeasible  title,  and  many  of  them  are  so  owned.  The 
titles  of  others  are  defective,  either  because  there  has 

204 


THE    RUBBER    INDUSTRY 

been  irregularity  in  the  payment  of  rent,  or  from  mis- 
description in  the  deeds  of  registration.  The  map  ac- 
companying the  register  often  includes  a  very  much 
larger  number  of  estradas  than  the  claimant  has  sched- 
uled or  paid  for;  and  this  of  necessity,  for  no  one  can 
count  or  correctly  estimate  the  number  of  estradas  in 
an  area  which  has  not  been  explored  in  detail.  Again, 
the  maps  themselves  are  inaccurately  surveyed.  Thus 
a  multitude  of  questions  may  be  made  subject  of  dispute. 
In  other  cases,  I  am  told,  men  have  obtained  legal  posses- 
sion of  a  number  of  estradas,  patched  about,  and  now 
claim  to  own  all  the  land  included  between  those  estradas. 
The  question  of  title  is,  therefore,  one  that  in  any  par- 
ticular case  needs  close  investigation  on  the  spot.  Up 
to  the  present  time,  however,  none  of  these  titles  have 
been  contested,  and  it  does  not  appear  to  be  the  interest 
of  any  individual  to  contest  them,  while  the  chief  in- 
terest of  the  government  is  to  induce  men  of  capital  to 
work  the  forests,  introduce  immigrants,  develop  lines 
of  communication,  and  so  increase  the  general  trade 
and  prosperity  of  the  country.  It  is  not  likely,  there- 
fore, that  the  government  will  attempt  to  upset  titles, 
even  if  they  are  not  absolutely  satisfactory,  provided 
that  the  forests  in  question  are  properly  worked. 

The  enormous  and  ever-increasing  demand  for  rubber, 
made  by  modem  electrical  and  other  industries,  renders 
the  development  of  increased  sources  of  supply  a  very 
important  matter.  From  a  recently  issued  United  States 
Consular  Report  on  the  Resources  and  Trade  Oppor- 
tunities of  the  Amazon  Valley,  I  quote  the  following  im- 
portant passage : 

"  I  have  learned  that  some  accounts  which  have  been 

205 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

written  concerning  rubber,  although  not  entirely  mis- 
leading, have  not  been  quite  accurate.  The  impression 
created  by  the  narratives  of  previous  travellers  who  have 
been  up  the  Amazon  is  that  the  rubber  production  is  on  a 
constant  and  endless  increase.  It  is  not  generally  be- 
lieved, but  it  is  nevertheless  a  fact,  that  the  output  is 
not  likely  to  increase  to  any  marked  degree  unless  a 
much  larger  force  of  rubber-gatherers  is  sent  into  the  for- 
ests than  has  been  employed  during  the  past  year  or  two. 
This  is  the  opinion  of  the  best-informed  rubber-plantation 
owners.  Reports  that  the  supply  of  rubber-trees  is  inex- 
haustible are  largely  overdrawn.  It  is  true  that  there 
is  no  fear  of  immediate  scarcity  of  rubber,  and  perhaps 
there  will  not  be  for  the  next  fifty  years.  It  is  believed 
in  well-informed  circles  that  hereafter  there  will  be  a  grad- 
ual but  steady  shrinkage  in  the  rubber  product  unless  the 
present  force  of  rubber  -  gatherers  is  largely  increased, 
because,  in  the  first  place,  the  trees  conveniently  located 
near  the  banks  of  the  rivers  are  naturally  the  first  to  be 
worked,  and  in  consequence  are  becoming  exhausted 
from  constant  tapping,  the  milk  extracted  being  weaker 
each  year;  hence  the  shrinkage  in  such  rubber  is  very 
great.  In  the  second  place,  the  rivers  have  all  been 
worked  inland  for  a  distance  of  about  three  miles  from 
their  banks,  and,  in  order  to  reach  the  so-called  unex- 
plored rubber  forests  still  farther  inland,  it  will  require 
much  more  time  and  necessitate  three  times  as  strong 
a  force.  Oumers  of  rubber  farms  inform  me  that 
milk  drawn  from  rubber -trees  five  years  ago  possessed 
twice  the  strength  contained  in  that  extracted  from 
the  same  tree  to  -  day.  The  islands  near  Para  are  all 
overworked.      Good  judges  can  easily  recognize   rub- 

206 


THE    RUBBER   INDUSTRY 

ber  drawn  from  overworked  trees  by  its  peculiar 
color." 

If,  therefore,  the  supply  of  Para  rubber  does  not  show 
signs  of  increase,  the  importance  of  developing  other 
sources  of  supply  becomes  obvious.  The  following  ob- 
servations upon  the  forests  of  so-called  MoUendo  rubber 
are  the  result  of  my  own  observations  and  inquiries, 
in  which  I  was  much  helped  by  Mr.  M.  Martindale,  an 
English  gentleman,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  in  La 
Paz,  and  whose  long  experience  of  the  country  was 
unreservedly  placed  at  my  disposal.  Unfortunately, 
he  was  killed  in  the  forest  a  year  later  by  the  fall  of 
a  tree. 

In  the  European  market  a  certain  brand  of  india- 
rubber  is  sold  under  the  name  of  MoUendo  rubber.  Of 
course,  no  rubber-trees  grow  at  or  anywhere  near  the 
Peruvian  port  of  MoUendo  on  the  Pacific  coast.  The 
name  applies  merely  to  the  rubber  which  is  shipped 
from  that  port.  All  the  MoUendo  rubber  comes  from 
the  Peruvian  provinces  of  Carabaya  and  Sandia,  or 
the  Bolivian  provinces  of  Caupolican  and  Larecaja, 
the  forest-clad  valleys  of  Mapiri,  Tipuani,  Coroico, 
Challana,  Zongo,  etc.,  which  descend  northeastward 
from  the  Cordillera  Real.  The  rubber  is  brought 
over  various  passes  to  Lake  Titicaca,  shipped  by 
steamer  to  the  Peruvian  port  Puno,  and  carried  down 
by  the  Arequipa  Railroad  to  MoUendo.  All  MoUendo 
rubber  comes  from  the  region  above  mentioned,  and 
all  the  rubber  produced  in  that  region  is  exported 
through  MoUendo.  The  statistics  of  the  rubber  ex- 
ported from  MoUendo  thus  form  an  impartial  record  of 
the  production  of  the  Cordillera  valleys.     The  follow- 

207 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

ing  are  the  statistics  of  the  MoUendo  rubber  export  for 
a  series  of  years : 

1893-94 37,587  lbs. 

1894-95 80,734  lbs. 

1895-96 251,341  lbs. 

1896-97 292,121  lbs. 

1897-98 491,087  lbs. 

The  statistics  of  the  year  1898-99  have  not  come  to 
my  hands,  but  the  output  was  very  much  larger  than  in 
the  preceding  year,  and  the  industry  is  rapidly  develop- 
ing. The  quality  of  Mollendo  rubber,  as  judged  by  its 
price,  is  nearly  equal  to  that  of  Para  rubber,  which  is 
the  best  in  the  world.  In  the  year  1898  Para  rubber 
in  the  English  market  varied  in  price  per  pound  from 
35.  sH^'  t^  4^-  4/^^v  while  Mollendo  rubber  varied 
from  35.  /^d.  to  45.  lYzd.  These  exceptionally  high 
prices,  however,  have  not  been  maintained. 

Considering  the  importance  of  india-rubber  at  the 
present  time,  it  appears  likely  that  some  account  of 
this  little-known  forest  region  may  be  of  general  in- 
terest. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  area  under  dis- 
cussion does  not  include  the  whole  Rio  Beni  and  the 
region  of  the  plains  about  it,  but  only  the  upper  part 
of  that  region  in  and  about  the  foot-hills  of  the  Cor- 
dillera. The  rubber  that  comes  from  the  lower  Beni 
is  carried  away  to  the  eastward,  and  emerges  into 
the  light  of  commerce  as  Para  rubber.  It  is  only 
the  forests  of  the  lowest  eastward  Cordillera  slopes, 
and  the  plain  immediately  at  their  foot,  that  are  com- 
prised in  the  Mollendo  district.  The  rubber-trees 
there  are  Hevea  lutea,  a  large  forest  tree,  approxi- 

208 


THE    RUBBER    INDUSTRY 

mately  as  big  as  an  average  English  elm.  These 
trees  are  self-planted.  They  grow  in  clumps,  or  estra- 
das,  of  from  lOO  to  150  together,  and  these  clumps 
rise  well  above  the  other  forest  trees,  and  can  be  seen 
from  afar,  so  that  the  richness  of  any  area  can  be 
judged  by  a  general  oversight  from  a  commanding 
position. 

In  most  parts  of  the  world  rubber-producing  trees 
grow  in  a  swamp,  a  condition  which  renders  rubber 
forests  direfully  inimical  to  human  habitation.  In 
this  respect  the  Mollendo  rubber  forest  is  a  fortunate 
exception,  for  by  all  accounts  it  is  not  unhealthy;  so, 
at  all  events,  I  was  informed  by  an  Irishman  and  a 
German,  both  of  whom  had  spent  the  best  part  of  from 
ten  to  twenty  years  in  the  forest.  Their  information 
was  confirmed  by  many  others.  There  are,  of  course, 
unhealthy  spots,  but  the  forest  is  not  generally  un- 
healthy. The  reason  is  that  the  trees  do  not  grow  on 
level  swamps,  but  on  the  sloping  sides  of  valleys. 
For  moisture  they  depend  upon  the  almost  constant 
cloud  that  hangs  over  them,  and  is  formed  by  the 
cold  air  pouring  continually  down  from  the  adjacent 
snowy  Cordillera.  This  cloud  is  a  geographical  feat- 
ure. The  upper  boundary  of  the  rubber  area  is  a 
contour  line  at  approximately  the  3000-foot  level, 
above  which  altitude  the  tree  w411  not  yield  milk  in 
paying   quantities. 

The  main  valleys  in  the  rubber  zone  are  traversed  by 
navigable  rivers.  The  difficulty  of  transport  begins  at 
the  upper  limit  of  navigation,  whence  the  rubber  has  to 
be  carried  by  toilsome  tracks  over  the  high  passes  of 
the  Cordillera.  At  present  there  are  no  roads  and  no 
o  ^  209 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

mule -paths  worth  mention.  There  are  a  few  tracks 
traversable  by  mules  with  difficulty.  The  best  are  the 
Mapiri  and  Tipuani  trails,  which  converge  on  the  town 
of  Sorata,  after  surmounting  passes  of  16,000  feet  alti- 
tude. New  and  better  mule-tracks  are  now  being  made. 
The  part  of  the  forest  which  has  thus  far  been  best 
opened  out  is  the  area  worked  by  these  trails.  Up 
to  the  present,  therefore,  Sorata  has  been  the  chief 
centre  of  the  industry.  The  Challana  and  Zongo 
forests  will  not  be  properly  worked  till  better  tracks 
have  been  made  over  the  two  passes  north  and  south 
of  Mount  Condoriri  and  down  the  respective  valleys. 
Such  mule-tracks  could  be  easily  made  at  a  relative- 
ly small  cost.  When  that  preliminary  work  is  done, 
the  production  of  MoUendo  rubber  will  rapidly  in- 
crease. A  great  area  in  Caupolican  is  likewise  as 
yet  unworked  for  lack  of  roads  and  capital. 

At  present  the  main  impediment  to  the  development 
of  the  industry  is  not  the  difficulty  of  carrying  out  the 
rubber,  but  of  carrying  in  the  necessary  supplies;  for 
it  is  important  to  remember  that  the  forest  region  is 
practically  uninhabited,  and  the  amount  of  cultivation 
is  very  small.  A  tropical  forest  left  to  itself  produces 
little  food  for  man.  At  one  or  two  points  by  the  river- 
banks,  where  gold-washing  is  carried  on,  there  are 
small  Indian  villages;  but  the  inhabitants  are  fully 
occupied,  and  have  no  time  to  spare  for  collecting  rub- 
ber. Both  labor  and  food  have,  therefore,  to  be  imported 
from  the  high  Bolivian  plateau  by  the  same  route  that 
the  rubber  retraces  on  its  way  to  export.  As  develop- 
ment goes  forward  clearances  will  be  made  in  the 
forest  and  the  necessary  food  raised  on  the  spot,  as 

210 


THE    RUBBER   INDUSTRY 

is  already  being  done  in  the  Sandia  Company's  ^o- 
males. 

We  are  thus  brought  to  consider  the  important  ques- 
tion of  labor.  In  the  department  of  La  Paz  there  are 
reckoned  to  be  over  300,000  Indians,  most  of  whom 
inhabit  the  high  plateau  region.  These  people  are 
agricultural  laborers,  who  work,  under  a  kind  of  ma- 
norial system,  for  what  corresponds  to  a  very  low  rate  of 
pay— a  starvation  wage,  in  fact.  They  cannot  be  de- 
scribed as  an  industrious  folk,  but  they  are  extravagant, 
and  their  extravagance  of  expenditure  on  festivals,  and 
especially  on  festal  raiment  of  a  costly  and  gorgeous 
character^  leads  them  to  temporary  emigrations  from 
home,  to  which  also  they  are  frequently  driven  by  dire 
necessity.  They  are  wont,  under  such  circumstances, 
to  pledge  their  labor  in  advance,  and  their  extraordinary 
honesty  makes  the  avoidance  of  their  pledge  an  event 
of  extreme  rarity.  Employers  needing  labor  secure  the 
services  of  agents,  who  visit  Indian  villages,  and  either 
directly,  or  through  the  corregidors  or  presidents  of  the 
villages,  enlist  the  required  workmen.  Payment  is 
generally  made  in  advance,  for  the  Indian  has  to  leave 
money  with  his  family  and  to  provide  himself  with  food 
for  the  time  of  his  absence  in  the  forest.  He  trans- 
ports the  food  either  on  his  own  back  or  on  that  of  his 
donkey,  and  sometimes  he  takes  his  wife  and  family 
with  him.  He  contracts  either  to  work  for  so  many 
days,  or  to  bring  out  of  the  forest  so  many  pounds  of 
rubber.  The  time  spent  by  him  on  the  journey  to  and 
fro  is  not  paid  for.  In  the  case  of  a  mine  or  other  enter- 
prise that  has  been  running  for  some  time,  a  certain 
number  of  Indians  become  habituated  to  working  for 

211 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

it,  but  they  generally  do  so  only  for  portions  of  the 
year,  returning  at  stated  intervals  to  their  homes  for 
the  purpose  of  pursuing  the  cultivation  of  their  lands. 
All  depends  upon  how  the  Indians  are  treated  by  their 
employers.  If  they  are  well  treated,  they  will  return 
and  bring  others  with  them,  even  without  payment  in 
advance,  if  provisions  are  supplied  to  them  at  the  place 
of  labor.  The  system  is  not  a  very  satisfactory  one, 
and  is  not  capable  of  indefinite  extension ;  though  un- 
doubtedly, if  the  forests  were  worked  on  a  large  scale, 
and  the  Indians  were  well  treated  and  punctually  paid, 
a  change  in  their  habits  might  be  brought  about.  It  is 
not,  however,  probable  that  the  forest  region  could  ever 
be  colonized  by  plateau  Indians,  the  difference  of  climate 
and  level  between  the  two  countries  being  so  strongly 
marked.  Whenever  an  organized  attempt  is  made  to 
exploit  these  splendid  forests  on  a  large  scale,  foreign 
labor  will  have  to  be  imported,  and  it  will  be  necessary 
to  seek  Chinese  coolies  in  San  Francisco,  or  Italians 
from  Buenos  Ayres,  or  to  fetch  Hungarians  from  Europe 
or  negroes  from  the  West  Indies,  as  has  in  fact  been 
successfully  done  by  the  Chicago  -  Bolivian  Rubber 
Company  in  its  Huanay  forest.  Japanese  coolies 
were  also  tried  but  did  not  give  satisfaction.  Such 
colonists  would  live  in  the  forest,  and  would  cultivate 
the  ground  as  well  as  work  the  rubber-trees.  Their 
labor  would  be  supplemented  by  that  of  Indians,  but 
a  steadier  industry  would  be  the  result. 

The  extraction  of  rubber  is  one  of  the  simplest  crafts 
in  the  world,  and  can  be  learned  quickly  by  the  most 
ignorant.  The  process  is  as  follows:  The  workman, 
starting  out  very  early  in  the  morning  (for  when  the 

212 


THE   RUBBER    INDUSTRY 

sun  is  high  the  trees  cease  to  bleed),  carries  with  him  a 
number  of  httle  tin  cups  called  tichelas.  Arrived  at  a 
tree,  he  makes  one  or  more  small  incisions  in  the  bark, 
and  attaches  one  of  the  tin  cups  below  each  incision,  by 
pressing  it  into  the  soft  bark.  The  nimiber  of  incisions 
that  can  be  made  in  a  tree  at  one  time  is  variously  stated. 
A  strip  of  the  bark  all  down  the  tree,  one-third  of  the  cir- 
cumference in  width,  must  be  left  unbroken,  or  the  tree 
will  be  liable  to  bleed  to  death.  The  cup,  of  course,  collects 
the  drops  of  sap  that  bleed  from  the  wound  in  the  bark 
above  it.  Ultimately,  the  wound  in  the  bark  is  covered 
by  a  film  of  dried  sap,  which  also  is  afterwards  collected. 
The  workman  proceeds  from  tree  to  tree,  attaching  his 
cups,  till  he  has  tapped  from  75  to  150  trees  in  his  estrada, 
according  to  his  industry  and  the  nature  of  the  ground. 
After  the  hour  when  the  sap  ceases  to  run,  the  man  goes 
round  again,  carrying  a  tin  vessel  with  a  cover,  into 
which  he  pours  the  milk  that  has  run  into  the  tichelas. 
When  all  the  tichelas  have  been  emptied,  the  man  re- 
turns to  his  harraca.  Some  collectors  tap  the  trees  in 
the  morning  and  return  to  collect  the  milk  in  the  even- 
ing, while  others  tap  in  the  evening  and  collect  in 
the  morning.  At  the  harraca  the  collector  lights  a 
fire  of  palm  wood,  with  which  the  nut  of  the  Montacu 
palm  is  mixed,  if  it  can  be  obtained.  He  places  a  funnel 
over  it  to  collect  the  smoke,  and  then,  taking  a  kind  of 
small  wooden  paddle  (something  like  a  squash-racket 
bat)  in  his  hand,  dips  the  broad  end  into  the  milk,  which 
covers  it  with  a  thin  layer.  He  now  holds  the  paddle 
over  the  fire  in  the  smoke,  turning  its  faces  alternately 
to  the  heat.  The  layer  of  milk  is  thus  rapidly  smoked 
and  coagulated  into  hard  cured  rubber.    The  paddle  is 

213 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

then  dipped  into  the  milk  again,  and  the  process  re- 
peated until  a  large  cake  has  been  formed.  When  the 
cake  has  reached  a  convenient  size,  it  is  slit  down  the 
sides  and  stripped  from  the  paddle.  The  figure-of-eight- 
shaped  lumps  thus  formed  are  ready  for  export.  They 
still  contain  about  7  per  cent,  of  water,  which  gradually 
dries  out  in  the  next  few  months,  and  for  which  allow- 
ance must  be  made  in  weighing.  In  the  Mapiri  district 
it  is  usual  to  cure  the  production  of  each  day  separately, 
so  that  each  collector's  work  can  be  controlled.  More- 
over, rubber  so  cured  can  be  easily  tested  for  cleanness 
and  purity.  Lower  down  the  Amazon  the  custom  is 
to  smoke  one  day's  rubber  on  top  of  the  previous  day's, 
making  large  holachos,  into  which  dishonest  workmen 
more  easily  introduce  stones  and  other  adultera- 
tions. 

The  average  amount  of  rubber  which  one  collector 
produces  on  one  day  is  very  variously  stated.  On  the 
Lower  Amazon,  seven  pounds  daily  is  the  figure  quoted ; 
on  the  Upper  Amazon,  twenty-one  pounds  daily.  In 
the  Mollendo  district  the  lower  of  these  figures  does  not 
appear  to  be  reached  under  present  management.  To 
this  cured  rubber  must  be  added  the  scraps  and  rem- 
nants called  sernambi,  which  include  the  cicatrices  of 
the  incisions  in  the  bark,  the  cleanings  of  the  tickelas, 
etc.  The  amount  of  sernambi  is  equivalent  to  about  10 
per  cent,  of  the  smoked  rubber,  and  its  price  is  from  15 
to  20  per  cent.  less. 

The  pica,  or  rubber  harvest,  is  collected  twice  a  year 
in  the  Mollendo  forests,  from  April  to  July,  and  from 
October  to  March.  It  appears  that  a  single  tree  can  only 
be  tapped  during  three  months  of  one  year,  and  then 

214 


THE    RUBBER    INDUSTRY 

needs  nine  months'  rest.  If  thus  treated,  and  if  a  good 
broad  strip  of  bark  is  left  untapped  from  bottom  to  top, 
the  health  of  the  tree  does  not  seem  to  be  interfered  with. 
For  how  many  years  it  is  possible  to  go  on  tapping  a 
single  tree,  we  do  not  yet  know.  There  is  a  tree  in 
the  barraca  Christina,  in  Senor  Violand's  San  Antonio 
estate,  which  was  stripped  of  all  the  bark  on  one  side, 
and  yet  has  yielded  milk  from  the  remaining  bark  during 
six  picas  in  six  successive  years ;  the  tree  still  retains  a 
thoroughly  healthy  appearance.  It  is  certain  that  the 
life  of  a  tree,  though  annually  tapped,  is  a  long  one, 
and  exceeds  the  fifteen  years  which  are  required  for  the 
growth  of  a  tree  from  seed,  so  that  the  forest  may  be 
perennially  tapped  and  will  give  a  fairly  constant  yield 
when  thoroughly  opened  up  and  worked.  This,  how- 
ever, implies  that  the  trees  are  carefully  handled;  the 
yield  of  a  mishandled  tree  falls  off.  The  average  yearly 
output  of  a  full-grown  tree  is  variously  stated.  Some 
put  it  as  high  as  seven  pounds ;  no  one  puts  it  at  less 
than  three  pounds  of  cured  rubber  (after  lo  per  cent, 
has  been  deducted  for  drying). 

The  cost  of  production,  in  Bolivian  dollars,  of  lOO 
pounds  of  MoUendo  rubber  in  the  Mapiri  forest  is  as 
follows : 

Paid  to  contractor,  per  loo  lbs 73-00 

Loss  in  weight,  lo  per  cent 7.30 

Freight  from  the  forest  to  Sorata  town 5.00 

Commissions  and  road  tolls 60 

Cost  of  administration 10.00 

Sacking,  packing,  commission,  and  freight  to  Chililaya,  on  Lake 

Titicaca 2.20 

Freight,  insurance,  and  all  incidental  expenses  to  London 12.00 

IIO.IO 

215 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Or,  reckoning  the  Bolivian  dollar  equal  to  iSd.,  the  cost 
of  a  pound  of  Mapiri  rubber  put  in  London  is  ig.Szd. 

From  the  books  of  two  other  forest-owners  in  the  same 
neighborhood  I  find  a  slightly  higher  cost,  20.i6d.  per 
pound.  The  present  price  of  this  rubber  in  London  is 
about  45.  per  pound. 

Coming  now  to  a  consideration  of  the  possible  supply 
of  rubber  to  be  drawn  from  the  Mollendo  forests,  we 
enter  a  region  of  conjecture,  for,  of  course,  the  trees 
have  not  been  counted,  nor  even  the  number  of  estradas. 
A  part  of  one  estate  has  been  recently  proven  to  con- 
tain 6410  estradas  (961,500  trees),  when,  according  to 
the  original  estimate,  the  whole  estate  contained  only 
500,000  trees.  Twenty  million  trees  may  be  taken  as  the 
lowest  probable  limit  of  the  number  of  trees,  while  they 
may  not  improbably  turn  out  to  reach  fifty  millions  or 
even  more.  Now,  in  the  season  1897-8,  the  amount  of 
Mollendo  rubber  exported  was  491,087  pounds,  which, 
at  three  pounds  per  tree,  represents  the  yield  of  only 
163,695  trees,  and  the  same  number  of  days'  labor  at 
three  pounds  per  man  per  day.  If  one  Indian  is  taken 
as  working  for  three  weeks,  it  represents  the  labor  of 
only  7795  Indians  out  of  a  population  of  300,000  in 
the  Department  of  La  Paz.  The  possible  increase 
of  output  is  thus  clearly  enormous.  How  is  it  to  be 
brought  about? 

Without  going  into  financial  questions  concerned  with 
any  possible  purchase  of  the  estates  and  concentration 
of  them  under  single  management,  a  few  essential  feat- 
ures of  the  problem  may  be  pointed  out.  To  begin  with, 
the  first  necessity  is  to  make  good  mule-roads  over  the 
high  passes  that  lead  from  the  town  of  Sorata  and  from 

216 


THE    RUBBER   INDUSTRY 

the  Bolivian  plateau  to  the  chief  eastern  valleys,  and 
down  those  valleys  to  the  forests.  These  roads  would, 
of  course,  be  very  useful  to  the  gold-miners,  coffee-plant- 
ers, and  others  whose  work  leads  them  to  the  eastward. 
They  are,  therefore,  rather  the  work  of  the  government 
than  of  the  rubber-forest  proprietors;  but  the  govern- 
ment is  poor  and  can  only  afford  to  make  them  by 
slow  degrees.  If  made  at  all,  in  the  immediate  future, 
the  forest  proprietors  must  make  them.  The  main 
roads  having  been  made,  it  is  necessary  to  cut  forest- 
tracks  from  one  estrada  to  another,  as  only  the  es- 
tradas  easily  accessible  have  yet  been  touched.  This 
implies  additional  labor,  wise  oversight,  and  intelli- 
gent exploration. 

At  present  all  the  food  consumed  by  the  rubber  col- 
lectors has  to  be  carried  into  the  forest  from  Sorata  or 
the  plateau — a  great  waste  of  labor.  It  would  be  per- 
fectly easy  to  raise  any  quantity  of  food  in  the  hot  valleys, 
which  are  of  the  richest  natural  fertility ;  but  such  cul- 
tivation implies  preliminary  colonization.  As  already 
stated,  it  would  be  impossible  to  colonize  these  low,  hot 
valleys  with  Indians  from  the  Tibet-like  plateau.  Chi- 
nese coolies  are  the  class  most  suited  for  such  work. 
They  could  be  obtained  very  easily  from  San  Francisco. 
A  nucleus  of  such  men,  who  would  soon  become  expert 
in  working  the  rubber  forests,  would  enable  the  industry 
of  rubber  collection  to  be  far  better  organized  than  it 
is  to-day,  and  opportunities  of  theft  would  be  reduced. 
Large  areas  in  these  valleys  which  do  not  carry  rubber 
are  suitable  for  coffee  plantations,  and  such  planta- 
tions as  do  exist  produce  the  finest  coffee  of  South  Amer- 
ica and  some  of  the  finest  in  the  world,  so  that  here,. 

217 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

also,  important  future  developments  may  be  expected. 
What  is  true  of  coffee  is  true  also  of  coca,  for  which  a 
large  local  market  exists  among  the  Indians  of  Bolivia. 
Such  developments  of  the  rubber  industry  imply  not 
merely  concentration  or  co-ordination  of  proprietorship, 
but  skilled  administration  and  scientific  experience, 
which  could  only  come  in  the  wake  of  capital.  At 
present,  everything  is  done  experimentally  or  by  rule  of 
thumb. 

The  Bolivian  government  would  certainly  favor  any 
such  enterprise,  provided  that  road -making  and  col- 
onization were  an  essential  feature  of  it.  With  their 
help  the  business  of  recruiting  Indian  laborers  would  be 
greatly  facilitated,  for  the  village  corregidors  have 
much  influence  over  the  Indians,  and  can  promote  or 
hinder  their  enlistment,  or  turn  them  in  one  direction 
or  another,  very  much  as  they  please.  Under  any  cir- 
cumstance, however,  the  future  of  this  region  of  tropical 
valleys  descending  from  the  eastern  face  of  the  snowy 
Cordillera  Real  of  Bolivia  is  certain  to  be  prosperous, 
and  its  development  will  soon  attract  much  attention. 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE    EASTERN    VALLEYS 

1HAVE  been  tempted  to  write  thus  at  length  about 
the  india-rubber  forests  beyond  Sorata  because  the 
subject  is  one  of  general  interest  at  the  present 
time.  It  is,  however,  as  portal  to  a  great  gold  region, 
not  improbably  as  rich  and  important  as  the  Rand,  that 
Sorata  is  destined  to  attain  world-renown  sooner  or 
later.  From  the  slopes  of  Mount  Sorata  and  its  neigh- 
bors there  descend  to  the  north  and  east  four  important 
valleys — the  Mapiri,  Tipuani,  Challana,  and  Coroico. 
These  four  valleys  have  long  been  known  to  be  very 
rich  in  gold.  At  the  head  of  the  Tipuani  Valley  is 
Yani,  of  which  I  shall  have  something  to  say  here- 
after. These  valleys  are  all  relatively  steep.  They 
are  traversed  by  torrents,  which  rise  very  rapidly 
in  the  rainy  season  and  which  carry  along  immense 
bowlders.  In  the  rains  also  great  landslips  fall  down 
the  sides  of  the  valleys.  Between  the  landslips,  the 
floods,  and  the  bowlders,  gold-washing  on  a  large 
scale  with  the  necessary  machinery  has  never  been 
a  great  success  in  these  valleys.  Canals  made  to 
carry  a  head  of  water  to  a  point  above  a  placer-mine 
have  been  made  more  than  once,  but  nature  has  de- 
stroyed them  before  they  could  be  used.  Bowlders 
have  been  blasted  and  areas  of  gravel  cleared  for  wash- 
ing, and  then  a  flood  has  come  and  rolled  in  a  new 

219 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

lot  of  bowlders  before  the  washing  could  be  accom- 
plished. Machinery  has  been  carried  over  the  Cordil- 
lera and  installed,  and  then  some  landslip  has  buried 
it  or  flood  overwhelmed  it.  Add  to  these  difficulties 
the  fact  that  in  a  region  where  gold  does  in  fact  exist 
in  great  richness,  and  where  it  has  been  known  and 
worked  since  prehistoric  times,  there  exists  no  yard 
of  gravel  that  does  not  belong  to  some  one.  As  there 
does  not  exist  any  accurate  detailed  map,  the  claims 
are  all  ill-defined  and  frequently  overlap.  Then  many 
claims  have  lapsed  and  new  denouncements  have  been 
made  of  the  ground.  As  soon,  however,  as  any  one 
tries  to  work  such  a  new  denouncement,  the  former 
owner's  representative  arises  with  a  law-suit  and  dis- 
putes the  new-comer's  title.  Pending  the  suit,  work 
has  to  stop.  For  these  and  other  reasons  it  seems 
improbable  that  any  foreign  company  is  likely  in 
the  near  future  to  do  much  profitable  gold-washing 
on  a  large  scale  in  any  of  these  four  valleys.  The 
gold  that  is  produced  from  them  will  continue  to  be 
produced  by  small  groups  of  native  w^orkers,  operating 
without  machinery  in  the  crudest  of  old-fashioned 
methods. 

The  four  valleys  mentioned  unite  near  Huanay 
to  form  the  relatively  slow-flowing  and  navigable 
Rio  Kaka.  The  gravel  and  sand-banks  that  exist 
along  the  margin  of  the  Kaka  have  recently  been 
found  to  be  immensely  rich  in  gold.  A  company  has 
been  formed,  which  has  obtained  possession  of  these 
banks,  and  is  now  introducing  machinery  to  work 
them.  There  is  no  trouble  about  titles;  there  are  no 
bowlders  and  no  serious  floods.     Much  gold  will  prob- 

220 


THE    EASTERN    VALLEYS 

ably  be  derived  from  these  banks  during  the  next 
few  years.  The  gold  in  question  is  a  flake  gold,  and 
has  evidentl}^  come  from  a  secondary  formation  in 
which  it  has  been  submitted  to  pressure.  All  the  gold- 
bearing  rivers  tributary  to  the  Kaka  flow  across  such 
a  formation,  slate  underl^dng  conglomerate.  Both 
the  slate  and  other  conglomerate  were  picked  at  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  many  small  tunnels  may  be  observed 
cut  into  them.  The  probability  seems  to  be  that  both 
the  slate  and  the  conglomerate  are  auriferous,  and 
not  unlike  the  Johannisberg  Rand.  The  application  of 
modern  methods  of  working  is  about  to  be  applied 
to  these  beds,  and,  if  the  present  showing  is  confirmed, 
the  whole  of  the  belt  of  foot-hills  formed  of  them  will 
presently  become  the  scene  of  a  great  mining  indus- 
try. When  that  comes  to  pass  Sorata  will  wake  up  as 
an  important  transit  station.  Puerto  Ballivian,  near 
Huanay,  will  be  the  Bolivian  Johannisberg,  the  Ama- 
zonian port  of  the  Bolivian  Rand. 

In  this  same  country,  elevated  about  2000  feet  above 
the  rubber  forests,  there  is  a  large  area  of  fine  grazing 
land,  ranged  over  by  herds  of  cattle  gone  wild.  These 
cattle  will  attract  the  attention  of  stock-raisers  when 
the  gold  rush  begins.  The  surrounding  country  con- 
tains any  amount  of  land  suitable  for  the  produc- 
tion of  all  kinds  of  food  for  man  and  beast.  All  it 
requires  is  population.  When  the  people  come,  the 
wealth  that  they  may  take  out  of  the  ground  is  almost 
limitless.  There  hardly  exists  in  the  world  an  area 
by  nature  richer,  or  more  beautiful,  or  better  adapted 
for  colonization  by  white  men  than  this  splendid  belt 
of  the  northeastern  foot-hills  of  the  Cordillera  Real. 

221 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Having  exhausted  the  time  I  could  afford  for  Sorata 
and  its  neighborhood,  we  set  off  to  return  over  the  pass 
to  Achacache.  The  bad  weather  still  continued.  As 
we  rose  to  the  col,  we  entered  the  cloud,  sweeping  up,  as 
usual,  from  the  Mapiri  Valley  and  pouring  over  on  to 
the  Puna,  a  part  of  that  warm  drift  of  damp  air  from  the 
eastward  to  which  the  bad  weather  owed  its  origin.  All 
hopes  of  surveying  the  north  face  of  the  Sorata  moun- 
tain group  being  thus  postponed,  there  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  ride  down  to  the  town.  Rain-storms 
pursued  us;  the  energies  alike  of  man  and  beast  were 
devoted  to  making  headway  as  fast  as  possible.  The 
mules,  evidently  well  acquainted  with  the  road,  re- 
quired no  urging ;  as  soon  as  the  rugged  portion  of  the 
track  was  left  behind,  and  the  margin  of  the  plain 
reached,  off  they  went  at  a  gallop,  devouring  the  way. 
On  arrival  at  Achacache  bad  news  was  encountered; 
the  Indians  of  Umapusa  refused  to  return  to  the  moun- 
tain without  some  escort  that  would  secure  them  against 
the  vengeance  of  their  hostile  neighbors.  It  was  uni- 
versally believed  that  we  were  responsible  for  the  bad 
weather,  which,  coming  at  this  unseasonable  time, 
interfered  with  farming  operations.  The  sub-prefect 
was  still  absent  from  his  post,  so  that  a  visit  to  La  Paz 
could  not  be  avoided.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  time 
was  not  wasted,  for  the  bad  weather  lasted  on  until 
our  return,  and  climbing  would  have  been  impossible 
for  that  reason  alone. 

I  decided  to  enlarge  my  knowledge  of  the  Puna 
by  taking  the  northern  and  more  direct  track,  which 
goes  from  Achacache  through  the  town  of  Penas, 
a  place  that  derives  its  name  from  the  crest  of  peaked 

222 


THE    EASTERN    VALLEYS 

rocks  intervening  between  it  and  the  main  high-road 
from  Chihlaya  to  La  Paz.  To  the  summit  of  these 
rocks  we  afterwards  ascended,  as  will  be  described 
in  its  place. 

The  track  we  had  to  follow  led  between  the  hill  of 
Achacache  and  a  neighboring  sandstone  and  con- 
glomerate mound  named  from  Abichaca,  a  village  at 
its  base.  This  point  was  decided  upon  as  one  of  the 
principal  stations  for  the  triangulation  which  I  was 
to  make  after  the  climb  of  Mount  Sorata  had  been  ac- 
complished. Little,  however,  did  we  guess  what  com- 
plications this  choice  was  destined  to  involve.  Other 
sandy  and  stony  hills  succeeded  on  both  sides,  and 
for  hours  we  wound  about  among  them,  along  desert 
valleys,  with  seldom  any  distant  outlook  towards  the 
Cordillera.  The  stones,  plentifully  strewn  over  these 
hills  and  in  the  valley  bottoms,  were  rounded  and  obvi- 
ously water-worn,  but  the  majority  of  them,  I  believe, 
have  been  weathered  out  from  the  conglomerate,  and 
not  shaped  by  recent  water  action.  The  summit  of 
Abichaca  Hill  and  of  several  other  similar  hills  were 
occupied  by  small  buildings  of  the  type  called  chulpas, 
most  of  them  being  edifices  of  pre-Spanish  erection,  built, 
as  the  natives  say,  in  ''  the  times  of  the  Gentiles.''  One 
summit  bore  a  much  larger  ruin,  whereof  a  row  of  piers 
of  considerable  size  was  visible  from  a  great  distance. 
At  the  foot  of  the  slope  there  now  stands  a  large  church, 
which  has  supplanted  its  loftier  predecessor  in  popular 
veneration.  The  policy  of  the  Spaniards  appears  to 
have  been  to  consecrate  to  Christian  purposes  the  sites 
of  ancient  superstition. 

The  corregidor  of  Pefias  sheltered  us  for  an  hour  or 

22^ 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

two  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  so  that  we  avoided  visiting 
the  inn,  of  whose  existence,  indeed,  we  were  ignorant.  I 
afterwards  learned  that  the  place  has  a  very  bad  reputa- 
tion, for  the  Penas  Indians  are  some  of  the  worst  on  the 
Puna,  and  the  inn  had  been  the  scene  of  terrible  trage- 
dies. It  had  been  noticed  that  several  travellers,  known 
to  have  passed  along  this  road,  were  seen  no  more. 
Inquiries  were  instituted,  and  suspicion  fell  upon  the 
innkeeper  of  Pefias,  who  was  observed  to  be  unusually 
prosperous.  The  tamho  was  carefully  examined.  Ex- 
cavations were  made  in  the  floor  of  one  of  the  rooms, 
with  the  result  that  the  bodies  of  a  large  number  of 
murdered  men  were  found  buried  beneath  it. 

Pushing  on,  as  soon  as  the  mules  had  been  fed,  we 
struck  away  along  the  foot  of  the  precipitous  face  of 
Pefias  Hill,  with  the  long  slopes  leading  up  to  the 
clouded  Cordillera  on  our  left.  Clouds  and  storm  had 
gathered  over  the  mountains  and  swept  down  upon  the 
Puna ;  black  columns  of  tempest,  stretching  out  from  the 
great  mountains,  reached  over  on  to  the  plain,  trailing 
black  veils  of  rain  or  gray  skirts  of  hail.  When  Pefias 
Hill  was  passed  we  came  out  on  the  open  Puna,  and  found 
the  dust  whirlwinds  dancing  about  it  in  countless  mul- 
titudes. A  violent  and  wide-spreading  storm  seemed 
about  to  break,  but,  as  no  shelter  was  at  hand,  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  push  forward  on  our  way. 
We  passed  the  Tambo  de  Perez,  an  inn  often  mentioned 
in  descriptions  of  travel  in  Bolivia,  and  came  to  the 
old  tamho  of  Patamanta,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  Villaque 
Hill,  which  was  destined  to  be  our  second  principal  sur- 
veying station.  The  mules  were  so  fatigued  that  an 
hour's  halt  had  here  to  be  made.     Then  forward  again 

224 


THE    EASTERN    VALLEYS 

in  the  growing  night,  along  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
across  the  wide,  almost  dry  channel  of  the  Vilahaque 
torrent,  where  black  night  overtook  us. 

Now  the  thunder-storms,  through  which  we  had 
threaded  our  way  as  through  the  trees  of  a  forest,  were 
raging  in  every  quarter  of  the  heavens.  By  good 
fortune,  they  always  passed  over  the  road  either  before 
our  coming  or  after  our  passage.  An  almost  unceasing 
coruscation  of  electric  fire  was  playing  in  the  great 
cloud  that  covered  Illimani.  Directly  ahead  was  an- 
other storm  behind  Okomisto.  Three  more  storms 
flashed  their  great  strokes  of  light,  apparently  on  the 
crests  of  the  low  hills  bounding  the  Puna  to  the  west. 
Through  a  hollow  in  the  overcast  sky  the  moon  came 
out  and  shone  upon  the  plain.  Not  a  creature  was 
encountered,  even  after  we  had  joined  the  carriage- 
road  and  were  approaching  Okomisto ;  not  a  light  shone 
in  the  scattered  cottages  of  the  Indians.  Between  the 
booming  of  the  thunder  absolute  silence  reigned  all 
around.  The  tired  beasts  plodded  slowly  forward.  At 
last,  still  far  ahead,  the  lightning  showed  the  peaked 
outline  of  the  row  of  stacks  that  marked  the  post-house 
at  Okomisto.  The  cold  was  bitter,  and  we  were  all 
suffering  from  an  utter  numbness,  so  that  from  time 
to  time  each  had  to  dismount  and  bring  back  feeling 
into  his  limbs  by  tramping  along  the  road. 

At  last  the  welcome  sound  of  barking  dogs  showed 
that  the  post-house  was  near ;  we  began  to  promise  our- 
selves supper  and  the  reward  of  bottled  beer  to  wash 
it  down.  Without  the  barricaded  gate  I  shouted  for 
admittance,  but  only  the  barking  dogs  replied.  We 
shouted  and  hammered  away  for  ten  minutes,  with 

p  225 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

sinking  hearts,  but  still  there  was  no  voice,  nor  any 
that  replied.  When  at  last  we  were  on  the  margin  of 
despair,  the  gate  gave  way,  and  we  could  advance  to 
the  door  of  the  house.  But  that  also  was  barred,  and 
the  man  within  refused  admittance.  He  said :  ''  Let  me 
alone;  my  children  and  I  are  in  bed ;  we  cannot  take  you 
in.''  Presently  his  heart  melted,  and  he  admitted  us 
to  the  mud  hut  where  the  post-travellers  dine.  ''  Here,'' 
he  said,  "you  may  pass  the  night,  if  you  please."  But 
the  beer  was  all  exhausted,  the  food  all  eaten,  and  the 
only  condiment  of  any  sort  that  remained  was  half  a 
bottle  of  that  universal  commodity  of  South  America, 
which  no  remotest  hut  seems  ever  to  be  without — 
Worcestershire  sauce.  The  crazy  table  still  bore  the  rem- 
nants of  the  last  traveller's  food,  dirty  plates,  and  crum- 
bled bread,  but  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  biscuit  to  be 
had.  The  filthy  floor  had  not  been  swept  since  the  place 
was  built,  but  on  it  we  had  to  sleep  as  best  we  could. 
Our  host  absolutely  refused  to  receive  the  mules,  but 
he  directed  the  arriero  to  an  Indian's  farm,  half  a  mile 
away,  where  they  could  be  fed.  Such  as  the  shelter  was, 
we  were  glad  enough  to  reach  it,  for  we  had  ridden  more 
than  fifty  miles  since  morning,  and  fifty  miles  at  a  slow 
jog-trot  behind  baggage -mules  continually  straying 
from  the  way  and  having  to  be  brought  back  is  a  fa- 
tiguing day's  work. 

Next  morning  at  peep  of  day  we  found  great  areas  of 
the  Puna  covered  with  fresh-fallen  snow.  Leaving  the 
baggage-mules  to  come  on  at  their  leisure,  we  cantered 
off,  and  were  in  La  Paz  by  nine  o'clock.  The  bad 
weather  continued  during  the  time  of  this  visit,  and 
great  thunder-storms  raged  even  over  La  Paz  itself, 

226 


THE    EASTERN    VALLEYS 

so  that  when  we  returned  to  Achacache  the  mountains 
and  the  upper  slopes  of  the  Puna  were  all  alike  whitened 
with  thick,  new  snow.  It  was,  indeed,  as  though  the 
elements  had  combined  against  the  possibility  of  any 
high  ascents.  For  years  past  no  such  weather  was 
remembered  at  this  time  of  year. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  October  we  were 
again  at  Umapusa,  hoping  to  go  up  that  same  day  to 
Hiska  Haukana  camp,  for  means  had  been  taken  to  quiet 
the  hostile  Indians,  and  the  way  seemed  again  open 
before  us.  But  we  had  reckoned  without  knowledge 
of  the  Indian  calendar,  for  this  day,  as  well  as  the  mor- 
row and  the  day  after,  were  fetes,  when  every  self- 
respecting  Indian  at  Fraskiya  must  be  properly  drunk. 
The  delay  proved  to  be  unimportant,  for  the  weather 
was  worse  than  ever,  and  snow  fell  down  to  our  level  with 
little  cessation.  I  filled  the  time  by  shooting  geese  on 
the  swamp  below  the  village  and  reading  a  two  months' 
collection  of  English  newspapers  backward,  which  is 
a  remarkably  entertaining  way  to  become  acquaint- 
ed with  reports  of  the  doings  of  the  world.  On  the 
7th  of  October  the  bad  weather  culminated ;  snow  lay 
thick  down  to  the  margin  of  Lake  Titicaca.  Then  the 
sky  cleared  and  the  sun  shone  out  on  a  white  earth, 
in  the  midst  of  which  glittered  the  fiery  blue  surface  of 
the  lake.  Our  projected  attack  on  Mount  Sorata  was 
become  a  forlorn  hope. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
CLIMBING    ANCOHUMA 

ON  a  brilliantly  fine  morning  we  set  forward.  ''  In 
nombre  de  Dios!''  the  arriero  cried,  ''for  we 
Peruvians  pray  to  God  at  the  beginning  of 
every  enterprise,  since  He  has  power  in  all  things." 
Sorry  looking,  indeed,  were  the  Indians  of  Fraskiya, 
who  were  gathered  in  a  body  to  meet  us  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  farm.  Most  of  them  had  broken  heads,  for 
the  entire  village  had  concluded  its  holiday  with  a  free 
fight,  described  by  the  combatants  as  having  been  per- 
fectly splendid.  It  had  left  behind  it  many  apparently 
unhealed  quarrels,  which  Caesar  was  called  upon  to 
settle.  The  women  were  the  great  talkers;  one  old 
and  toothless  dame  waxed  eloquent,  and  harangued 
him  for  nearly  an  hour,  while  the  men  stood  sadly 
round  and  occasionally  protested  against  her  words. 
Ultimately,  affairs  were  settled,  and  our  old  porters 
agreed  to  come  with  us,  though  Jose  for  a  while  hung 
back.  He  said  that  he  had  pains  inside  his  head,  as 
well  as  the  great  visible  gash  that  everybody  could  see 
outside  it.  We  told  him  there  was  no  medicine  for  a 
headache  like  a  visit  to  higher  altitudes.  His  old  wife 
went  and  fetched  him  a  warm  blanket,  and  he  resigned 
himself  to  his  fate. 
The  ascent  to  the  camp  was  diversified  by  the  fall 

228 


CLIMBING    ANCOHUMA 

of  a  baggage- mule,  which  unfortunately  broke  our 
spirit-bottle  into  the  salt  and  sugar,  but,  as  a  set-off, 
I  presently  flushed  a  small  covey  of  gray  partridges. 
Next  morning  we  climbed  early  to  the  higher  camp, 
accompanied  by  three  porters,  the  weather  being  still 
fine.  The  same  little  bird  that  had  fluttered  around 
our  tents  when  we  were  there  before  was  still  flying 
about,  uttering  a  shrill  cry ;  I  had  no  heart  to  shoot  it. 
The  Indians  went  back,  leaving  us  halted  for  lunch 
by  our  baggage  reserve.  We  then  lay  for  an  hour 
asleep  in  the  hot  sunshine.  Before  sunset  we  had  com- 
pleted the  next  stage  of  the  ascent,  and  were  standing 
beside  the  tent,  sledge,  and  baggage,  which  remained  as 
we  had  left  them.  The  amount  of  new  snow  that  had 
fallen  could  easily  be  measured  by  the  deep  hollow 
wherein  the  tent  lay,  while  the  sledge  was  so  buried 
that  it  had  to  be  dug  out.  The  minimum  thermometer 
inside  the  tent  only  registered  I2j^°  Fahr.,  not  a  se- 
vere amount  of  cold  for  a  fortnight's  stormy  weather 
in  early  spring  at  nearly  20,000  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  tent  was  soon  set  in  order ;  the  petroleum  stove 
turned  the  melted  snow  into  soup,  coffee,  and  even 
punch,  with  the  needful  ingredients.  In  the  sleeping- 
bags  we  were  as  warm  and  comfortable  as  in  beds 
at  home;  yet  sleep  would  come  to  none  of  us,  prob- 
ably because  we  had  exchanged  a  moderate  for  a  high 
elevation  so  suddenly.  When  we  were  here  before, 
all  slept  well ;  but  we  had  come  up  by  2000-f eet  stages  ; 
this  time  we  came  up  by  one  4000-feet  stage,  and  we 
could  not  sleep.  The  secret  of  how  to  gain  a  very  high 
altitude  is  to  ascend  by  short  stages,  and  to  stop  a  night 
at  each  stage.     Above  17,000  feet,  2000  feet  a  day  is 

229 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

enough.  You  can  do  more,  but  the  loss  in  rest  and  re- 
habilitation outweighs  the  apparent  gain  in  time.  I 
have  slept  for  four  nights  at  about  20,000  feet,  and  am 
satisfied  that  this  is  by  no  means  the  limit  of  height 
where  a  man  can  sleep.  Probably  23,000  feet  is  not 
an  impossible  camping  altitude,  if  it  is  reached  by 
stages  of  2000  feet  or  less. 

The  night  was  very  cold.  At  one  in  the  morning, 
when  we  began  preparations  for  the  climb,  there  were 
30°  Fahr.  of  frost.  In  the  polar  regions  this  would  be 
a  trifle,  but  polar  explorers  work  at  sea-level,  and  fill 
their  lungs,  each  breath,  with  a  supply  of  oxygen  suffi- 
cient to  keep  the  fires  warmly  burning  within  them. 
If  their  supply  of  oxygen  were  halved,  they  would  find 
Arctic  cold  insupportable.  At  20,000  feet  the  air  is  so 
thin  that  the  supply  of  oxygen  drawn  in  at  a  breath 
is  only  about  half  the  sea-level  supply. 

Before  two  o'clock  in  the  moonless  night,  we  quitted 
the  tent  on  our  upward  way.  The  glittering  canopy 
of  stars  was  disfigured  by  patches  of  drifting  cloud  of 
evil  augury.  A  single  candle  was  all  the  illumination 
to  our  dubious  way  over  the  hard-frozen  snow-slope 
between  two  ghostly  rows  of  white  mountains.  There 
were  many  crevasses,  and  large  ones,  too;  by  candle- 
light they  looked  gigantic,  for  we  could  not  see  to  the 
other  side.  All,  of  course,  were  profoundly  deep,  and  some 
were  wide  open.  Others,  like  those  we  had  dragged 
the  sledge  over,  were  bridged  across  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet  below  the  top.  Of  course,  there  were  plenty  of  holes 
and  gaps  in  these  bridges.  To  lean  over  the  edge  of  a 
great  crevasse  and  peer  down  to  see  whether  there  were 
a  bridge  below  or  not  was  a  weird  experience.     Some- 

230 


CLIMBING   ANCOHUMA 

times  we  were  not  sure,  and  had  to  let  a  man  down  to 
ascertain.  The  sides  were  roughly  vertical  and  diffi- 
cult to  scramble  down  in  day-time,  when  one  could  see 
to  cut  steps  and  hand-holds;  by  night  the  difficulties 
were  much  increased.  We  had  to  peer  about  to  find  the 
solid  parts  of  the  snow-bridges  and  to  avoid  the  holes 
going  through  into  the  bowels  of  the  glacier.  To 
clamber  up  the  far  side  of  the  crevasse  afforded  an- 
other troublesome  problem.  Notwithstanding  these  pet- 
ty miseries,  the  climb  in  the  night  up  the  glacier  was 
delightfully  romantic.  The  darkness,  the  uncertain 
flicker  of  our  fire -fly  candle,  the  utter  silence,  the 
angry  clouds,  the  starry  heaven,  and  the  vaguely  felt, 
rather  than  seen,  expanse  of  snow  and  surrounding 
peaks  in  the  bonds  of  a  frost  like  the  grip  of  a  demon's 
hand,  combined  to  produce  on  all  of  us  an  immense 
impression.  None  but  necessary  words  were  spoken. 
The  silence  was  too  awful  to  be  lightly  disrupted.  We 
advanced  as  rapidly  as  the  altitude  permitted,  though 
our  powers  were  thus  submitted  to  a  severe  and  pain- 
ful strain,  for  the  cold  was  now  much  more  intense  than 
at  camp,  and  was  doubtless  many  degrees  below  zero. 
Our  breathing  was  hard  and  loud;  our  hearts  beat 
audibly;  we  were  working  up  to  the  verge  of  our  pos- 
sible strength,  all  three  being  in  the  finest  state  of 
physical  condition. 

Half-way  up  the  long  last  slope  of  the  glacier,  the 
basin-like  slope  that  seems  from  below  to  be  a  plateau, 
we  beheld  the  waning  crescent  of  the  moon  just  above 
the  edge  of  the  eastern  crest.  For  a  moment  of  inde- 
scribable beauty  it  hid  behind  a  stately  pyramid  that 
looks  down  on  hot  Tipuani,  and  the  deep,  damp  valleys, 

231 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

whose  streams  roll  over  ungathered  gold,  and  whose 
banks  bear  countless  rubber-trees  of  the  finest  quality 
in  the  world.  But  the  moon  was  not  to  help  us;  in  a 
few  minutes  it  had  passed  behind  thick  clouds  and  all 
its  light  was  blotted  out. 

Thus  about  4  A.M.,  in  absolute  night,  we  approached 
the  base  of  Ancohuma's  final  peak.  We  had  arrived  too 
soon,  for,  in  the  enveloping  night  even  the  main  feat- 
ures of  the  great  face  of  snow,  that  rose  above  us  with 
an  appalling  and  unanticipated  steepness,  could  not 
be  distinguished.  It  was  too  cold  for  halt  or  hesitation. 
All  we  could  do  was  to  make  for  the  foot  of  what,  if  our 
memory  of  the  previous  inspection  were  correct,  should 
be  a  long,  unbroken  strip  of  snow  leading  far  up.  In 
what  difficulties  it  might  involve  us  above  we  had  no 
notion  at  all.  During  the  last  hour  the  condition  of  the 
snow  had  altered  for  the  worse.  Near  camp  it  had  been 
hard  as  rock.  Higher  up  came  a  softer  substance. 
Here  at  the  foot  of  the  peak  it  was  like  flour,  each  gran- 
ule of  ice  so  hard  frozen  that  it  ''disdained  its  brother." 
We  recalled  the  upper  levels  of  Illimani  with  regret. 
The  storms  of  the  last  fortnight  had  left  traces  not  quick- 
ly to  be  obliterated.  Quantities  of  new  snow  had  fallen, 
and,  as  mischanced,  the  form  of  Ancohuma  had  caused 
it  to  drift  round  and  accumulate  with  special  thickness 
exactly  on  the  slope  we  were  about  to  climb.  Perhaps 
that  slope  owes  its  existence  to  the  fact  that  it  is  habit- 
ually renewed  and  increased  by  an  eddied  snow-drift. 

The  moment  we  started  up  the  slope  we  realized  that 
the  work  we  had  done  was  child's  play  to  what  was  to 
come.  No  amount  of  treading  would  make  the  snow 
bind.     It  poured  over  the  feet  and  about  the  legs  like 

22,2 


CLIMBING   ANCOHUMA 

sand.  How  it  maintained  its  position  at  all  on  the  steep 
incline  was  a  mystery.  A  small  provocation  would 
evidently  start  the  whole  mass  sliding  in  a  mighty 
avalanche.  To  avoid  this  danger  it  was  essential  to 
mount  in  a  directly  upward  line.  Any  incline  to  right 
or  left  would  have  drawn  a  furrow  across  the  slope 
and  thus  almost  inevitably  have  started  an  avalanche. 
Straight  up,  therefore,  we  went,  no  easing  zigzags 
possible.  We  sank  in  at  first  to  the  knee,  presently 
to  the  waist.  People  often  talk  vaguely  of  walking 
through  snow  waist-deep.  Of  course,  it  is  impossible  to 
advance  at  all  if  you  sink  in  up  to  the  waist,  for,  thus 
buried,  the  leg  could  not  be  withdrawn  and  advanced 
for  a  step.  The  deepest  snow  you  can  walk  through 
on  a  level  place  or  gentle  slope  is  half-thigh  deep.  Be- 
yond that  you  must  roll,  as  we  discovered  in  Spitsbergen. 
When  I  say  we  sank  in  as  far  as  the  waist,  I  am  referring 
to  conditions  on  a  steep  slope,  where  the  broken  edge 
of  the  snow  in  front  of  each  man  came  level  with  his 
waist  or  even  his  chest ;  behind  him,  of  course,  the  step 
was  open.  To  take  another  step  the  snow  in  front  had 
to  be  beaten  down,  and  then  trodden  and  trodden  and 
trodden  again  before  it  was  firm  enough  to  bear.  When 
the  next  man  came  to  it,  it  was  all  smothered  in  white 
powder  and  had  to  be  beaten  and  trodden  afresh.  The 
increasing  elevation,  the  steadily  worsening  snow,  and 
steepening  slope  made  the  toil  ever  greater.  As  we 
were  working  up  to  the  margin  of  our  strength,  the 
pace  consequently  diminished.  We  breathed  violently 
and  sometimes  in  furious  paroxysms.  Already,  on  the 
snow-field  below,  the  guides  had  beaten  their  feet  with 
ice-axes  to  maintain  circulation.     Now  the  beating  was 

233 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

almost  continuous.  Both  complained  that  they  were 
losing  sensation  in  the  extremities.  I  shouted  up  to 
Maquignaz  that  Pellissier  said  his  feet  were  being  frost- 
bitten. ''Let  him  beat  them,  then/'  was  the  answer. 
''But  he  is  beating  them,  and  it's  no  good.''  "Then 
he  must  beat  them  harder;  there  is  no  other  way." 
Both  guides  were  frost-bitten  on  that  dreadful  slope. 
I  only  escaped,  thanks  to  my  footgear.  My  feet  were 
not  warm,  of  course,  but  they  were  never  quite  misera- 
bly cold. 

As  we  rose  the  dawn  broke,  not  rose-red  nor  fiery, 
as  in  the  Alps,  but  pale  and  thin.  Yet  when  it  comes, 
in  these  equatorial  latitudes,  it  comes  quickly.  The 
light  of  it  lay  upon  the  level  bed  of  clouds,  floating  over 
all  the  eastern  region ;  but  the  sun  itself  we  did  not  see, 
for  the  mountain  we  were  on  hid  it  from  us,  and  the  cold 
continued.  Indeed,  we  thought  the  cold  became  more 
intense.  Daylight  brought  knowledge.  We  saw  what 
was  above  us,  and  the  sight  gave  little  satisfaction. 
There  was  not  a  diminution,  but  an  increase,  of  difficul- 
ties and  dangers  ahead.  Huge  masses  of  ice  overhung 
in  cliffs  one  hundred  feet  high.  Vast  crevasses  split  the 
face  across.  Everywhere  the  deep,  soft,  floury  snow 
mantled  the  slopes,  up  which  the  route,  if  any  were  pos- 
sible, must  lie.  On  the  other  hand,  the  summit  was 
now  not  far  off.  We  had  climbed  more  than  half  the 
height  of  the  final  peak.  No  more  than  six  hundred 
feet  remained  to  mount.  So  we  pushed  on,  slanting 
now  a  very  little  to  the  right,  of  necessity,  though  any 
departure  whatever  from  the  straight -up  track  was 
fraught  with  some  danger.  We  came  at  last  to  the  edge 
of  a  great  crevasse,  perhaps  fifty  feet  wide,  that  split 

234 


I 


CLIMBING   ANCOHUMA 

the  whole  slope  across.  It  would  have  been  possible 
to  cross  this,  but  we  didn't  try,  for  the  slope  beyond 
it,  leading  straight  to  the  top,  in,  perhaps,  three  hun- 
dred feet,  was  obviously  unsafe  in  present  conditions.  It 
was  a  little  steeper  than  the  slope  we  had  come  up, 
and  it  was  covered  with  the  same  powdery  snow ;  but, 
whereas  thus  far  we  had  been  able  to  climb  straight 
up,  it  would  now  be  necessary  to  take  a  diagonal 
course,  for  the  summit  was  above  on  our  left  hand. 
If  we  had  fallen  from  any  point  on  the  hither  side  of  the 
great  crevasse,  we  should  have  come  to  rest  somewhere 
on  the  level  snow-field  below.  Even  if  involved  in  an 
avalanche,  we  might  have  extricated  ourselves  safely, 
as  I  have  more  than  once  done  in  similar  circumstances. 
But  in  the  traverse  above,  on  the  far  side  of  the  crevasse, 
we  should  have  had  it  below  us  to  tumble  into,  for  the 
first  part  of  the  way,  and,  farther  on,  an  ice  cliff  of  one 
hundred  feet  to  fall  over.  Moreover,  the  probabilities 
were  that  we  should  start  an  avalanche,  and,  if  we 
did,  it  was  certain  we  should  all  be  killed.  To  have  ac- 
cepted the  risk  would  have  been  the  act  of  a  fool. 

A  fortnight  or  three  weeks  earlier,  before  the  series 
of  storms  which  piled  on  the  new  snow,  we  should  not 
have  had  too  serious  difficulty  or  danger  to  contend 
against.  There  would  have  been  much  step-cutting, 
such  as  we  had  had  on  Illimani,  but  undoubtedly  we 
should  have  accomplished  it  successfully.  Now  the 
fates  were  emphatically  against  us.  With  bitter  re- 
gret I  gave  the  word  to  return.  Before  actually  starting 
down  it  was  necessary  to  set  up  and  read  the  barom- 
eter— not  an  aneroid,  but  a  mercurial  barometer  of  the 
Boylean-Mariotti  pattern.     To  fiddle  with  the  little  ad- 

235 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

justments  of  an  instrument  under  such  circumstances 
of  cold  is  misery.  Hands  must  be  withdrawn  from 
gloves;  the  body  must  be  kept  still,  and,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  adjustment,  the  breath  must  be  held,  an  act  of 
torture  when  the  lungs  are  thirsting  for  oxygen,  which 
continuous  breathing  only  gathers  in  quite  insuffi- 
cient quantity.  Constant  practice,  however,  invests  the 
reading  of  instruments,  for  the  scientific  traveller,  with 
the  character  of  a  duty.  The  whole  energy  of  the  mind 
is  concentrated  on  the  effort  to  obtain  an  accurate  ob- 
servation. All  else  is  for  the  moment  forgotten.  The 
instrument  was  set  up,  hanging  vertically  from  a  tripod 
of  ice-axes.  I  grovelled  in  the  soft  snow  to  bring  my 
eye  level  with  the  top  of  the  mercury.  The  vernier  was 
screwed  down,  and  the  reading  taken.  The  whole  opera- 
tion was  then  repeated,  and  the  second  reading  agreed 
absolutely  with  the  first.  The  mercury  stood  at  12.42 
inches.  This  reading,  compared  with  an  almost  simul- 
taneous reading  at  La  Paz,  gave  24,255  feet  for  our 
altitude  above  sea-level  at  that  moment.  Add  250  feet 
for  the  remainder  of  the  peak ;  the  summit  should  thus 
be  at  24,500  feet  above  sea-level.  This  agrees  well 
enough  with  the  altitude,  24,812  feet,  of  the  Bolivian 
government  survey.  I  was  not,  however,  satisfied  with 
this  result,  but  later  on  devoted  a  fortnight  to  a  care- 
ful triangulation  with  a  6-inch  theodolite,  as  will  pres- 
ently be  described.  From  the  mean  of  eleven  differ- 
ent measurements,  the  height  of  Ancohuma"  came  out 

.  *  The  best  measurements  of  Ancohuma  known  to  me  are  :  Pentland, 
21,286  feet;  Minchin,  21,470  feet;  Conway,  21,710  feet;  mean,  21,490 
feet.  Other  measurements  are:  Pentland,  25,250  feet;  Bolivian  gov- 
ernment survey,  24,812  feet ;  Raimondi,  23,620  feet  (probably  meant 
for  Illampu). 

236 


CLIMBING   ANCOHUMA 

21,700  feet.     My  corresponding  figures  for  Illampu  are 
21,520  feet. 

Before  turning  to  descend  I  took  a  glance,  but  only  a 
glance,  at  the  view.  There  was  not  light  enough  to 
photograph  it.  Standing,  as  I  did,  backed  against 
the  steep  slope,  within  a  corner  of  the  face,  the  outlook 
was  over  less  than  half  the  horizon.  On  either  hand 
there  stretched  out  from  the  peak  the  ridges,  or  rather 
snowy  ranges,  that  border  the  deep  plateau  by  which 
we  had  ascended.  Both  were  almost  wholly  white. 
That  on  the  right  was  a  knife-edged  ice  arite  dipping 
gradually  to  a  snowy  col  overlooking  the  valley  of 
Sorata.  This  col  might  be  easily  reached,  but  the 
arete  thence  to  the  summit  of  the  peak  is  as  long  and 
narrow  as  that  of  the  Lyskamm.  It  would  be  danger- 
ous to  ascend,  because  it  is  so  exposed  to  wind,  and  if  a 
strong  wind  (such  as  almost  daily  blows  there)  were  to 
assail  a  party  on  that  arete  they  would  certainly  be 
blown  off.  Beyond  the  snowy  col  came  a  domed  peak, 
and  then  the  Haukana  peak.  We  could  see  both  over 
the  col  and  the  ice  arete,  but  only  clouds  were  visible 
be^^ond.  The  series  of  peaks  on  the  other  side  were 
less  remarkable  for  form.  In  the  distance  we  saw  the 
wide  area  of  the  Puna  and  a  large  portion  of  Lake  Titi- 
caca,  with  the  Western  Cordillera  beyond,  but  there  was 
no  overpowering  effect  of  distance  observable.  Clouds 
hid  the  view  along  the  main  Cordillera  to  the  north. 

The  ascent  of  the  slope  we  were  on  had  taken  three 
hours;  the  descent  was  the  work  of  a  few  minutes. 
The  whole  day  was  still  before  us,  and  I  was  not  without 
hope  of  even  yet  gaining  the  summit  by  way  of  the 
peak's  south  ridge.     To  the  foot  of  this  we,  therefore, 

237 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

turned  with  renewed  expectation.  But  success  was  not 
to  be  won  that  way  either.  For  some  distance  the  ridge 
was  practicable,  but  it  only  gave  access  to  the  foot  of 
the  same  slope  which  had  turned  us  back,  and  did  not 
conduct  to  the  summit.  One  might  have  turned  from 
it  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  at  the  point  where  it 
was  cut  away,  but  in  either  case  a  slope  of  the  same  im- 
possible character  (under  these  present  conditions)  had  to 
be  mounted.  Again,  therefore,  we  were  driven  to  descend, 
with  regrets  which  time  has  done  nothing  to  alleviate. 

As  our  climb  recedes  into  the  past,  the  memory  of 
its  dangers  grows  less,  while  the  desire  for  complete 
success  abides  unchanged.  I  ask  myself  whether  that 
slope  might  not  have  been  crossed;  whether  a  better 
man  would  not  have  risked  it  and  won.  There  come 
hours  when  I  stand  condemned  at  the  bar  of  my  own 
judgment.  But  in  saner  moments  another  conclusion 
obtains  the  mastery,  and  I  decide  that,  at  the  supreme 
instant,  I  did  right,  not  merely  not  to  risk  my  own 
life  for  what  is,  after  all,  a  passing  triumph,  but  not  to 
risk  the  lives  of  my  two  admirable  guides.  The  tangible 
results  of  a  journey  of  exploration  are  not  the  mere 
attainment  of  particular  points,  but  the  accumulated 
group  of  observations  and  collections,  w^hereby  the  sum 
of  human  knowledge  is,  however  little,  increased.  In 
turning  my  back  on  the  peak,  I  knew  that  I  did  so  for 
the  last  time.  Maquignaz  might  come  to  it  again 
with  another  employer,  but  I  should  not  return ;  for  that 
year  it  was  certain  the  mountain  would  not  come  again 
into  climbable  condition  before  the  beginning  of  the 
rainy  season  (November  to  March),  while  future  years 
would  bring  me  other  duties.     I  leave,  therefore,  not  the 

23S 


CLIMBING   ANCOHUMA 

highest  point,  but  one  of  the  finest  and  most  historic 
peaks  of  the  Andes  untrodden.  We  overcame  all  its 
permanent  difficulties  and  found  the  right  way  up,  but 
a  temporary  impediment  stopped  us  from  actually 
standing  on  the  top.  Whoever  comes  after  us  to  reap 
the  reward  of  complete  success  must  follow  in  our  foot- 
steps, and  will  think  of  us  kindly,  I  doubt  not,  when  he 
stands  on  the  proud  eminence,  with  Lake  Titicaca 
abroad  at  his  feet.  Him,  whoever  he  may  be,  I  con- 
gratulate upon  the  good-luck  denied  to  us. 

The  plod  back  to  camp  down  the  plateau  was  a 
depressing  effort.  I  was  surprised  to  find  what  a  dis- 
tance we  had  come.  Had  I  been  in  a  happier  mood, 
it  is  probable  that  the  white  scenery  would  have  pro- 
duced a  different  effect  upon  me;  as  things  were,  the 
unpeopled  solitude  struck  me  as  strangely  mournful. 
At  camp  we  soon  packed  up  our  things  and  trundled 
the  sledge  down  in  fine  style.  When  the  big  crevasses 
had  been  crossed,  we  simply  let  the  sledge  go  of  itself 
down  the  snow-slopes.  Arrived  at  the  middle  camp,  Ma- 
quignaz  went  on  at  once  to  call  the  Indians  up,  while 
Pellissier  and  I  repacked  the  goods  into  loads  before 
leisurely  following.  We  met  the  men  about  half-way, 
and  were  pleased  by  the  heartiness  of  their  greeting. 
They  rushed  up  to  kiss  my  hands,  and  begged  me  to 
drink  from  their  dirty  spirit-bottles.  An  hour  after  I 
arrived  in  camp  the  first  of  them  appeared  on  the  hill- 
side, almost  running  down,  with  two  loads  on  his  back, 
and  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  When  all  had  arrived 
I  paid  them  off  and  thanked  them  for  their  services. 
Some  thereupon  hastened  away  to  their  homes;  others 
stayed  to  accompany  us  down  next  day. 

239 


CHAPTER  XXII 
SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

ON  the  nth  of  October  we  descended  with  all  bag- 
gage from  Hiska  Haukana  to  Achacache,  leav- 
ing behind  on  the  top  meadow  one  of  the  mules 
who  had  died  from  some  internal  complaint.  He  was 
only  ill  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  by  some  curious  intelli- 
gence the  condors  discovered  it.  When  we  departed 
half  a  dozen  of  them  were  already  circling  overhead, 
and  no  doubt  descended  for  their  feast  as  soon  as 
our  backs  were  turned.  Bad  weather  had  again  come 
on ;  there  was  thunder  in  the  bosom  of  Mount  Sorata 
as  we  descended  the  Umapusa  slopes.  At  Umapusa, 
Maquignaz  borrowed  my  gun  and  struck  straight 
across  the  great  swamp  round  the  edge  of  which  the 
mule-track  passes.  He  shot  a  goose,  and  then  made 
his  way  by  the  devious  track,  avoiding  pools  and 
quagmires,  and  ultimately  issuing  through  a  little 
village  to  the  solid  ground  again.  In  the  village  he 
was  attacked  by  furious  dogs,  and  was  driven  to 
shoot  one  in  self-defence,  whereupon  the  Indians  issued 
forth  in  great  rage  and  threatened  him  with  knives 
and  stones.  It  was  only  by  levelling  his  gun  at  them 
that  he  succeeded  in  getting  away. 

The  time  was  now  come  for  commencing  the  triangu- 
lation  of  the  Cordillera.     By  measuring  the  apparent 

240 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

size  of,  or,  in  mathematical  language,  the  angle  sub- 
tended by,  a  rod  of  known  length,  held  perpendicular  to 
the  line  of  sight,  the  distance  of  the  centre  of  the  rod 
from  the  observer  can  be  easily  deduced.  Armed  with 
a  suitable  rod,  say  ten  feet  long,  and  with  an  instrument 
for  measuring  the  angle  it  subtends — in  other  words,  a 
theodolite  —  you  can  measure  any  reasonable  length 
by  putting  yourself  at  one  end  of  it  and  setting  up  the 
rod  at  the  other.  Having  determined  this  distance, 
if  you  go  to  the  point  where  the  rod  was  and  send  it  on 
farther,  and  if  you  keep  on  repeating  the  process,  you 
can  measure  your  way  across  a  continent.  Moreover, 
the  theodolite  enables  you  to  determine  also  the  distance, 
height,  and  position  of  any  points  that  can  be  seen 
from  any  two  of  the  stations  where  it  is  set  up.  In  this 
way  you  can  make  a  map  of  the  country  through  which 
you  travel.  It  is  called  making  a  ''bar-subtense  sur- 
vey/' The  idea  is  simple  enough,  but  it  is  one  of  those 
apparently  obvious  notions  which  a  genius  is  required 
to  originate.  The  practical  originator  of  the  method 
was  the  late  Colonel  Tanner,  of  the  Indian  Survey, 
a  splendid  surveyor,  an  admirable  artist,  and  a  first- 
rate  man  in  numerous  respects. 

To  walk  through  a  country,  performing  the  simple 
operation  thus  roughly  described,  would  seem  to  be 
an  unprovocative  operation  enough;  but,  as  a  matter 
of  experience,  I  am  enabled  to  state  that,  in  those  parts 
of  the  high  plateau  of  Bolivia  which  are  inhabited  and 
cultivated  by  Indians,  it  is  as  perilous  an  occupation 
as  the  most  adventurous  man  need  desire,  unless  the 
surveyor  and  his  assistants  are  accompanied  by  a  mili- 
tary force.  The  theodolite  I  employed  was  a  six-inch 
Q  241 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

instrument  by  Carey,  kindly  lent  to  me  by  Mr.  E.  A. 
Fitzgerald.  It  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  instruments 
used  by  him  in  his  survey  of  Aconcagua.  The  rod 
scarcely  requires  description.  At  each  end  it  carried  a 
square  board,  with  a  black  cross  painted  on  a  white 
ground.  From  the  centre  of  one  cross  to  the  centre 
of  the  other  was  exactly  ten  feet.  Half-way  between 
the  two  was  attached  a  sight,  by  directing  which  on 
to  the  theodolite  the  rod  could  be  placed  at  right  angles 
to  the  line  of  collimation.  A  level  was  used  for  making 
the  rod  horizontal.  The  rod  was  generally  supported 
on  a  pair  of  ice-axes  driven  into  the  ground. 

Calling  each  distance  thus  measured  a  range,  it  was 
further  necessary  to  measure  the  angle  made  by  each 
range  with  the  next.  Thus,  at  each  station  quitted  by 
the  theodolite  a  man  had  to  be  left  behind,  with  a  flag, 
to  mark  the  exact  position  that  had  been  occupied  by 
the  instrument.  Another  man  had  to  go  ahead  with 
the  rod,  and  the  observer  had  to  accompany  the  the- 
odolite. Hence  our  party  of  three  was  always  split 
up,  each  of  us  being  sundered  from  the  other  by  the 
length  of  a  range,  a  distance  of  perhaps  half  a  mile. 
The  arriero  accompanied  the  observer  with  a  baggage 
mule  for  carrying  the  theodolite.  With  less  than  four 
persons  it  was  impossible  to  undertake  work  of  this 
kind.  In  order  to  carry  the  levels  from  a  known  alti- 
tude we  had  to  make  our  first  station  on  the  margin 
of  Lake  Titicaca,  whose  height  above  sea-level  has  been 
taken  very  accurately  by  the  Mollendo  railway  sur- 
veyors. 

One  fine  morning  we  rode  away  from  Achacache, 
over  the  wide  pampa  to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  coming 

242 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

ultimately  into  a  hybrid  region  where  the  land  is  en- 
croaching upon  the  water,  and  where  banks  jut  out  into 
the  lake  and  lagoons  penetrate  the  land.  Here  the 
multitude  of  birds  was  greater  than  I  found  anywhere 
else  in  Bolivia.  Ducks  were  feeding  along  the  margin 
of  the  water,  and  there  were  herons  and  coots  and  a 
great  variety  of  small  birds  whose  names  I  did  not  know, 
and  which  we  could  not  shoot  with  a  theodolite,  the 
only  weapon  we  were  carrying.  The  whole  range  of 
the  Cordillera  was  magnificently  clear,  and  the  peaks 
shone  forth  in  their  new  white  raiment  as  though 
clothed  in  silver.  A  couple  of  bulls  seemed  inclined 
to  dispute  with  us  the  site  of  our  first  station,  but  were 
presently  persuaded  to  evacuate  it.  For  two  or  three 
hours  the  work  went  forward  easily  enough,  but  then 
we  touched  cultivated  land  and  the  first  signs  of  trouble 
arose.  One  or  two  Indians  came  from  their  huts  to 
watch  us,  and  concluded  that  we  were  up  to  no  good. 
They  saw  the  strange  instrument,  the  waving  of  flags, 
and  galloping  to  and  fro.  One  of  them,  more  intelligent 
than  the  rest,  concluded  that  we  were  making  prepara- 
tions for  either  a  road  or  a  railway,  innovations  equally 
distasteful  to  him.  He  said  that  we  were  going  to 
interfere  with  his  lands,  and  no  protests  of  ours  availed 
to  quiet  his  fears.  "We  want  no  roads,''  he  said, 
''  and  we  want  no  railways ;  we  want  nothing  but  to  be 
let  alone  as  we  are." 

The  next  station  was  close  to  a  little  hamlet  where 
the  dogs  were  turned  out  on  us  and  much  abuse  was 
shouted  forth  by  the  inhabitants.  But  after  that  we 
could  follow  the  road,  and  so  approached  Achacache 
without  further  trouble.    The   golden   evening   drew 

243 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

on,  and  the  sun  sank  into  the  lake.  A  great  shadow 
swept  across  the  plain  and  up  the  foothills,  making 
them  purple  and  the  snow  pink,  with  shadows  of  a  vivid 
green  such  as  I  never  saw  before.  It  was  a  swiftly 
transient  effect,  followed  by  no  afterglow.  In  a  few 
moments  the  pallid  night  swallowed  all.  This  was  the 
first  finely  colored  sunset  I  had  seen  in  Bolivia,  for  in 
these  mountains  the  sun  rises  and  sets  with  more  rapid- 
ity and  far  less  splendor  of  tint  than  one  is  accus- 
tomed to  in  the  Alps.  Once  or  twice  from  La  Paz  I  saw 
Illimani  shining  pink  at  the  moment  of  the  sun's  de- 
parture, but  there  again  the  effect  came  and  went  in 
a  few  moments. 

Next  day  our  work  was  continued,  the  weather  being 
still  perfectly  clear.  We  advanced  along  the  Umapusa 
track  and  so  reached  the  base  of  Abichaca  Hill,  which, 
as  I  before  said,  was  chosen  for  one  of  our  principal 
points  of  observation.  Maquignaz  went  to  the  top 
and  set  up  the  rod ;  I  was  at  the  station  below ;  Pellissier 
held  the  flag  at  the  preceding  station.  I  noticed  that 
Maquignaz  was  presently  joined  by  two  or  three  Ind- 
ians, but  thought  little  of  it,  for  the  hill  was,  of  course, 
uncultivated.  Where  I  stood  I  was  surrounded  by 
protesting  Indians  from  the  very  village  in  which  Ma- 
quignaz had  unfortunately  been  obliged  to  shoot  a  dog. 
My  work  finished,  I  rode  on  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  and 
slowly  scrambled  up  it,  first  by  a  path;  afterwards, 
dismounting,  I  had  to  drag  the  mule  almost  straight  up 
the  steep  final  slope  of  loose  stones.  The  top  was  a 
small  plateau  with  a  chulpa  at  one  corner  and  several 
ruined  walls  about.  A  little  way  down  on  one  side  was 
a  great  hole,  dug  some  years  before  by  a  party  of  native 

244 


r/    ^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


SURVEYING    UNDER   DIFFICULTIES 

gold  prospectors.  As  soon  as  I  arrived  Maquignaz 
started  away  to  make  another  station.  While  he  was 
on  the  road  I  had  time  to  examine  my  surroundings. 

About  a  dozen  Indians  were  already  collected  on  the 
summit;  they  watched  my  proceedings  with  scowling 
interest.  The  chulpa  proved  to  be  a  little  building  about 
six  feet  square  with  a  thatched  roof  supported  by  walls 
on  three  sides  and  by  a  round  arched  doorway  on  the 
fourth  which  faced  the  east.  There  was  a  step  or  altar 
within  along  the  west  side.  On  this,  and  in  two  niches 
in  the  side  walls,  were  collected  a  few  saucers  of  common 
pottery  containing  one  or  two  pieces  of  incense  or  a 
little  grain,  and  there  were  bunches  of  dried  pinks  and 
a  few  other  simple  offerings.  The  round  arched  door 
suffices  to  prove  that  this  particular  chulpa  has  been 
built,  or,  at  all  events,  rebuilt,  since  ''  the  times  of  the 
Gentiles.''  No  doubt  it  occupies  the  position  of  a  pre- 
historic building.  There  is  no  sign  of  Christianity  about 
it,  though  probably  enough  the  Indians  would  now  con- 
sider it  a  chapel. 

During  my  examination  of  the  chulpa,  more  Indians 
had  gathered  on  the  top  of  the  hill.  As  soon  as  I  began 
to  set  up  the  theodolite,  they  rushed  with  one  accord 
to  the  corner  of  the  chulpa  and  shouted  down  excitedly 
to  the  village  of  Abichaca,  five  or  six  hundred  feet  be- 
low. I  commenced  my  observations  and  paid  no  at- 
tention to  these  men,  signalling  to  Pellissier  to  come 
and  join  me  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  release  him.  Pres- 
ently a  great  number  of  Indians  arrived  on  the  top, 
led  by  an  old  fellow  with  as  evil  a  face  as  ever  I  saw. 
He  walked  truculently  up  to  me  and  seized  my  hand  in 
anything  but  a  friendly  manner,  while   holding  his 

245 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

other  hand  behind  his  back  under  his  poncho,  evidently 
grasping  a  weapon.  He  could  talk  a  little  Spanish, 
and  demanded  what  I  was  doing  on  their  hill.  I  did 
my  best  to  palaver  with  him  while  continuing  my  work, 
for  the  mountain  range  was  tantalizingly  clear,  and 
who  could  say  when  it  would  be  so  again?  The  old 
fellow  shrank  with  horror  from  my  instrument,  and 
evidently  thought  there  was  something  uncanny  about 
the  whole  performance,  for  the  theodolite  was  just  then 
pointed  at  their  sacred  Illampu,  and  they  probably 
conceived  that  I  was  in  some  way  engaged  in  drawing 
magic  from  the  mountain.  Once  again  they  cried  aloud 
with  united  shouts,  and  more  Indians  came  rushing 
up  in  response,  converging  from  all  sides.  Then  the 
whole  of  them  collected  in  a  walled  enclosure  near 
the  top,  where  a  noisy  debate  was  carried  on. 

The  arriero  signified  to  me  that  it  would  be  better  to 
pack  up  the  theodolite  at  once,  unless  I  was  willing  it 
should  be  destroyed.  We  accordingly  packed  it,  and 
were  loading  the  mule  when  the  whole  crowd  of  Indians, 
now  some  two  hundred  or  more  in  number,  rushed  forth 
and  surrounded  us,  yelling,  ''Gringo!  Gringo!''  I  felt 
like  a  single  llama  spitting  at  a  pack  of  curs.  They 
seized  the  arriero' s  and  the  baggage  mule,  and  tried  to 
seize  mine,  but  I  retained  possession  of  it.  The  upper 
part  of  the  hill  being  too  steep  for  riding,  I  led  my  beast 
down  the  slope  of  loose  stones  which,  fortunately,  as  it 
turned  out,  were  sharp-edged  and  not  of  the  rounded 
pebble  character  so  common  on  these  smaller  hills.  By 
luck  rather  than  design  I  diverged  gradually  away  from 
the  little  track  that  comes  up  from  the  village,  while  the 
naked-footed  Indians  were  obliged  to  keep  on  it.    Thus 

246 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

I  became  separated  from  them  by  a  few  yards.  Per- 
ceiving this  and  realizing  the  cause,  I  chose  the  nastiest 
way  I  could  find,  but  the  stubborn  mule  refused  to  follow. 
The  Indians  now  began  to  throw  stones  at  me,  luckily 
only  hitting  the  mule,  and  so  urging  him  forward. 
Thus  I  was  enabled  to  descend  at  a  good  pace  and  to 
reach  the  somewhat  gentler  slopes,  while  the  crowd 
were  still  forced  to  stick  to  the  path.  When  they 
observed  that  I  was  escaping,  half  a  dozen  of  the 
better -class  villagers,  who  wore  leather  sandals,  ran 
after  me  and  snatched  at  the  mule,  but  I  drew  my 
revolver  and  frightened  them  off.  They  called  out, 
"  To  the  finca !  to  the  finca !"  To  gain  time  I  re-echoed 
their  words  and  made  signs  asking  which  was  the 
way.  Having  thus  reached  the  path  below  at  a  ridable 
place,  I  jumped  on  to  the  beast,  and  ostentatiously  rode 
towards  the  finca,  gradually  increasing  the  pace  to  a 
quiet  trot  as  the  path  improved,  and  keeping  my  guards 
a  little  way  behind. 

I  noticed  that  the  arriero  was  not  being  troubled  by 
the  crowd,  who  regarded  him  as  one  of  themselves, 
and,  content  with  holding  the  mules,  allowed  him  to 
go  where  he  pleased.  With  only  myself,  therefore,  to 
shift  for,  and  being  now  down  close  to  the  village, 
where  the  fields  were  fairly  flat,  I  suddenly  switched 
my  mule  off  the  path,  clapped  spurs  to  him,  and  made 
the  best  of  my  way  towards  the  well  -  known  track 
leading  from  Umapusa  to  Achacache.  This  neces- 
sitated my  passing  through  the  end  of  the  village 
among  a  number  of  huts.  Out  of  every  hut  came  one 
or  more  natives,  who  set  their  dogs  upon  me,  heaved 
stones  at  me,  and  sometimes  rushed  at  the  mule  to 

247 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

try  and  collar  it;  but  I  kept  them  off  also  with  my  re- 
volver, taking  care,  of  course,  not  to  hit  any  one,  for 
that  would  have  made  matters  infinitely  worse  and  would 
have  put  an  end  to  the  possibility  of  completing  my 
survey.  Once  out  on  the  open  plain,  I  galloped  off,  still 
hotly  pursued  by  fleet-footed  Indians,  who  never  dropped 
far  behind,  and  only  gave  up  the  chase  when  I  entered 
the  edge  of  Achacache,  a  place  whose  inhabitants,  if 
not  hostile  to  those  of  Abichaca,  would  certainly  not 
make  common  cause  with  them. 

Meanwhile  Maquignaz  and  Pellissier  were  being 
independently  pursued  by  other  groups  of  Indians. 
Maquignaz,  indeed,  was  driven  away  before  he  had 
even  set  up  the  rod.  He  arrived  at  Achacache  by  a 
circuitous  route.  Pellissier  was  headed  off  in  another 
direction,  and  reached  the  inn  a  very  short  time  after  I 
did.  My  escape  was  a  lucky  one;  for  the  population 
of  this  part  of  the  Puna  was  thoroughly  enraged  with 
me,  believing  that  I  had  violated  their  sacred  places 
and  that  I  had  brought  on  the  bad  weather  of  the  pre- 
ceding weeks.  When  the  Indians  do  run  amuck  with 
a  gringo  they  are  not  content  merely  with  murdering 
him :  they  torture  him  first  with  great  ingenuity.  Find- 
ing that  we  had  escaped  into  Achacache,  the  rioters  of 
Abichaca  began  to  think  of  the  consequences  that 
might  follow.  Being  also  very  frightened  at  the  the- 
odolite, on  which  they  dared  not  lay  a  finger,  they  called 
for  the  arriero  and  begged  him  to  remove  it ;  thus  about 
sunset  he  also  arrived  at  the  inn  with  mules  and  the 
instrument  uninjured. 

The  worst  part  of  the  business  was  that  my  work  on 
Abichaca  Hill  was  not  finished,  and  that  it  was  neces- 

248 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

sary  for  me  to  return  there  and  spend  at  least  two  more 
hours  on  the  top.  I  therefore  called  on  the  sub-prefect, 
who  had  now  returned  to  his  post,  and  applied  for  his 
assistance.  He  was  willing  to  do  all  he  could,  but  he  said 
that  there  were  no  police  nearer  than  La  Paz,  and  no 
soldiers,  and  that  it  was  only  by  moral  suasion  that 
the  Indians  could  be  controlled.  He  said  they  were 
frightened,  and  that  if  some  man  in  whom  they  had 
confidence  would  explain  the  matter  to  them  and  would 
accompany  me  up  the  hill,  all  would  go  well.  The 
manager  of  the  finca,  who  lived  in  Achacache,  came  to 
apologize  and  promised  to  ride  out  to  the  place  next 
day  and  lecture  the  villagers.  I  was  advised  to  wait  a 
day  or  two  before  attempting  to  repeat  my  visit  to  the 
troublesome  neighborhood,  the  reputation  of  Abichaca, 
as  I  now  learned,  being  durably  bad. 

We  filled  up  the  intervening  time  by  carr3dng  a  plane- 
table  survey  up  to  the  Huallata  Pass,  but  ill-luck  again 
pursued  us.  The  north  face  of  Mount  Sorata  was  cov- 
ered with  clouds  on  this  occasion  also,  so  that  I  could 
not  obtain  a  near  view  of  it.  Endeavoring  to  solve 
the  somewhat  tangled  topography  of  the  Huallata 
region  of  rounded  hills  and  labyrinthine  dells,  all  deeply 
scraped  by  ancient  glaciers,  I  gained  the  neighboring 
pass  to  the  east  and  discovered  that  this  is  the  true 
geographical  saddle  at  the  head  of  the  Mapiri  Valley. 
The  direct  track  for  llama-caravans  from  Sorata  town 
crosses  the  watershed  here  and  descends  to  the  village 
of  Umapusa,  whence  it  skirts  the  lower  slopes  of  the 
Cordillera  to  La  Paz,  without  touching  Achacache  or 
Penas,  or  any  of  the  places  we  knew.  From  this  east- 
ern Huallata  Pass  the  view  of  Mount  Sorata,  whereof 

249 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

I  only  saw  glimpses,  must  be  splendid.  I  do  not  believe 
that  it  would  be  possible  to  find  in  the  world  any  grand- 
er near  view  of  a  great  mountain.  On  our  return  we 
joined  the  main  track  at  a  point  where  the  decaying 
carcass  of  a  donkey  disfigured  the  way-side.  This  was 
the  donkey  that  Bieber  had  found  turned  out  to  die, 
and  in  the  last  stages  of  suffering.  He  drew  his  revolver 
and  mercifully  shot  it,  whereupon  the  entire  population 
of  a  neighboring  hamlet  rushed  forth  upon  him  and  made 
him  pay  fifteen  dollars  for  killing  their  beast. 

In  response  to  an  invitation  from  the  sub-prefect, 
I  went  one  morning  to  his  house  and  met  an  assemblage 
of  notabilities.  All  were  armed  to  the  teeth  with  rifles 
and  Mauser  pistols  or  revolvers.  There  was  the  owner 
of  Abichaca  in  attendance ;  there  was  also  his  son,  and 
the  manager  of  the  finca,  and  there  were  some  other 
persons  believed  to  have  influence  with  the  Indians. 
Every  one  was  well  mounted,  so  that  our  cavalcade 
made  some  show  as  it  filed  out  of  the  town.  An  Indian 
funeral  was  encountered  coming  in  from  the  country, 
for  every  native  prefers  to  be  buried  in  the  great  cem- 
etery rather  than  on  the  unconsecrated  hill-side,  if  he 
can  afford  it.  The  body,  wrapped  in  a  poncho,  was  car- 
ried on  a  stretcher,  and  the  funeral  party  were  running 
along  at  a  spanking  pace.  That  same  afternoon  we 
met  them  again  scattered  along  the  track,  at  intervals  of 
a  hundred  yards  or  so,  where  they  had  fallen  on  their 
way  home  m  a  state  of  the  most  complete  intoxication 
it  is  possible  to  conceive. 

One  of  my  companions  related  to  me  how,  a  year  or 
two  before,  at  the  end  of  June  or  beginning  of  July, 
he  had  crossed  the  Cordillera  by  the  third  main  de- 

250 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

pression  south  of  Mount  Sorata.  He  said  that  the  snow- 
field  above  the  glacier  was  as  hard  as  rock,  so  that  he 
could  ride  over  it  without  dismounting,  and  that  the 
weather  was  perfect.  In  his  opinion,  June  and  July 
would  be  the  best  months  for  mountain  climbing,  imless 
the  cold  should  prove  to  be  too  great ;  but  he  said  that 
at  that  time  of  year,  even  on  the  Puna,  the  cold  was  of 
the  most  bitter  kind.  The  sub-prefect  told  me  that  he 
had  seen  me  and  my  guide  near  the  top  of  Ancohuma. 
He  said  he  watched  us  for  a  long  time,  but  that  we  did 
not  move,  and  he  pointed  out  to  me  the  place  where 
we  had  been.  On  looking'  through  a  telescope,  I  saw 
three  rocks  emerging  through  the  snow  at  the  point  in 
question. 

Word  had  been  sent  ahead  that  the  Indians  were  to 
collect  at  the  finca  to  meet  their  proprietor,  who,  after  all, 
did  not  come  with  us,  but  sent  his  son  in  his  place.  I 
was  informed  that  he  did  not  dare  venture  among  his 
people.  The  plan  was  that  all  the  Indians  were  to  be 
gathered  into  the  court-yard  of  the  finca,  where  the 
sub-prefect  was  to  address  them  while  I  climbed  the 
hill.  Once  in  the  court-yard  the  doors  were  to  be  locked 
on  them,  and  they  were  to  be  detained  until  my  work 
was  done.  Unfortunately,  the  event  did  not  turn  out 
so  simply,  for  the  Indians  refused  to  come  together, 
and  only  a  few  (and  those  the  least  truculent)  entered 
the  court-yard  at  all.  The  others  scattered  themselves 
about  in  small  groups  in  the  fields,  and  would  not 
come  even  when  men  went  to  fetch  them. 

Without  wasting  a  moment,  I  rode  straight  up  the 
hill  in  company  with  the  major-domo  and  followed  by 
two  natives.    The  major-domo,  riding  an  active  pony, 

251 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

of  which  he  was  very  proud,  rushed  at  the  steep  upper 
slope  without  dismounting ;  but  he  paid  for  his  temerity 
by  a  bad  fall,  the  pony  rolled  over  him,  cutting  open  his 
head,  and,  as  afterwards  appeared,  dislocating  his  wrist. 
He  said  it  was  a  matter  of  no  account,  and  walked  on 
to  the  top,  where  he  sat  down  and  discoursed  with  the 
Indians  in  Aymara,  describing  to  them,  as  well  as  he 
could,  the  nature  of  the  work  in  which  I  was  engaged. 
It  soon  became  evident  that  all  the  Indians  were  coming 
up,  as  they  had  done  before,  so  I  went  ahead  with  my 
work  as  quickly  as  possible,  in  the  midst  of  a  very 
troublesome  crowd.  To  avoid  leaving  a  man  behind 
with  the  flag,  I  built  a  cairn  of  stones  before  descending. 
By  this  time  the  patience  of  the  Indians  was  exhausted, 
and  once  more  they  began  to  throw  stones  and  shout 
"Gringo!  Gringo!''  But  nothing  serious  happened, 
and  we  were  able  to  ride  away  without  molestation. 
Before  we  had  reached  the  next  station,  however,  we 
saw  all  the  Indians  return  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and 
throw  down  our  stone-man,  a  serious  matter  for  us. 

Fortunately  the  next  station  was  planted  in  the  midst 
of  an  uncultivated  area  where  no  one  came  to  trouble 
us,  so  we  spent  a  couple  of  hours  there,  lunching  and 
resting;  by  that  time  the  hill  was  deserted.  I  sent 
Maquignaz  and  Pellissier  to  ride  back  together  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill  on  the  side 
remote  from  the  village,  where  one  of  them  was  to  hold 
the  mules  while  the  other  ran  up  with  a  flag  and  held 
it  for  a  moment  at  the  spot  on  which  the  cairn  had  been 
built.  '  I  was  to  wave  a  flag  to  him  as  soon  as  the  ob- 
servation had  been  made,  and  he  was  then  to  run  down 
and  escape.     Unfortunately,  they  forgot  to  carry  away 

252 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

the  field-glasses,  so  that,  having  arrived  at  the  top  of 
the  hill  and  planted  the  flag,  Maquignaz  could  not  see 
my  signal.  He  stood  waiting  and  waiting  and  peer- 
ing about,  twenty-five  minutes  longer  than  was  neces- 
sary. By  that  time  all  the  Indians  had  gathered  once 
again,  and  the  whole  country-side  was  loud  with  the 
cries  of  men.  Perceiving  that  it  was  necessary  to  re- 
treat;  Maquignaz  made  the  best  of  his  way  down  and 
just  reached  the  mules  in  time;  but  he  said  that  they 
had  difficulty  in  evading  pursuit,  for  the  enemy  was 
arranged  in  groups  all  round  the  hill.  There  was  also 
a  man  on  the  top,  who,  indeed,  had  been  there  at  the 
moment  of  their  arrival,  and  whose  business  it  was  to 
shout  down  the  direction  which  they  were  taking,  so 
that  those  below  might  concentrate  towards  the  point 
whither  they  were  descending.  Watching  them  with 
a  field-glass,  I  saw  that  they  got  away  in  safety,  and 
then  I  rode  off  and  returned  to  Achacache  by  another 
route. 

Having  thus  passed  what  we  believed  to  be  the  great 
obstruction  of  Abichaca  Hill,  we  hoped  that  it  would 
be  possible  to  continue  our  work  without  further  in- 
terference on  the  plain  by  following  along  the  Penas 
road.  Next  day  we  returned  to  our  last  station  by  a 
very  devious  route  from  Achacache,  keeping  at  first 
on  the  other  side  of  a  low  line  of  hills  and  crossing  a 
pass  right  on  to  the  station.  In  this  way  we  thought 
we  should  arrive  without  the  Abichaca  people  knowing 
anything  about  it.  But  we  had  no  sooner  reached 
the  pass  than  cries  were  heard,  which  were  taken  up 
and  repeated  farther  and  farther  off  and  in  all  direc- 
tions, so  that  it  became  evident  that  we  were  awaited, 

253 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

and  that  preparations  had  been  made  and  men  stationed 
on  the  lookout  in  all  the  villages  around.  Neverthe- 
less we  set  to  work.  Maquignaz  went  away  with  his  rod, 
I  set  up  the  theodolite,  and  the  observations  began. 
But  I  had  no  sooner  limbered  up  to  move  on  than  I  saw 
Maquignaz  riding  away  with  the  rod  on  his  shoulder. 
I  joined  him  quickly  and  asked  why  he  was  thus  hasty. 
He  replied:  "Well,  come  back  and  see  for  yourself/' 
So  we  rode  back  to  the  top  of  the  little  knoll  where  he 
had  been  standing,  and  there  met  half  a  dozen  enraged 
Indians,  and  saw,  two  or  three  fields  off,  another  twenty 
or  thirty  converging  upon  them,  and  half  a  mile  away 
yet  others,  while  through  the  glass  we  could  see,  from 
every  village,  people  streaming  forth  and  all  gathering 
towards  the  same  centre. 

Under  such  conditions  it  was  impossible  for  three 
men,  all  necessarily  separated  from  one  another  by 
long  distances  and  unable  to  offer  mutual  support, 
to  continue  the  bar-subtense  survey.  There  was  only 
one  thing  to  be  done:  to  change  our  method  of  opera- 
tions and  to  substitute  a  triangulation  for  the  bar- 
subtense  method,  treating  the  total  distance  thus  far 
measured  from  the  margin  of  Lake  Titicaca  as  the  base 
for  the  triangulation.  It  involved  making  two  more 
principal  stations  on  the  summits  of  the  Pefias  and 
Villaque  hills,  each  of  which  bore  to  the  neighboring 
village  or  town  the  same  relation  that  the  hill  of  our 
troubles  bore  to  the  village  of  Abichaca.  We  realized 
at  once  that  unless  protection  could  be  obtained  it  would 
not  be  possible  to  spend  a  long  time  on  such  sacred 
high  places.  The  sub-prefect  strongly  advised  us  to 
go  back  to  La  Paz  and  obtain  the  help  of  a  small  body 

254 


MR,    N.   E.   BIEBER    AT    THE    TOP    OK    THE    ALTO    DE   ANIMAS 


SURVEYING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES 

of  gendarmerie.  Without  them,  he  said,  we  could  not 
work  at  leisure,  and  we  might  find  it  necessary  to  pay 
several  hurried  visits  to  each  station  before  our  obser- 
vations could  be  completed.  In  his  opinion,  we  should 
save  time  by  settling  the  matter  once  for  all  on  a  sound 
basis. 

Till  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  Achacache  was 
noisy  with  the  beating  of  drums  and  the  cries  of  festiv- 
ity, for  there  was  a  great  fete  in  the  town,  and  a  fete 
among  the  Indians  is  another  name  for  a  drinking- 
bout.  At  three  o'clock,  when  we  started  for  La  Paz,  the 
orgies  were  still  in  progress ;  but  the  only  persons  in  the 
street  were  lying  about  overcome  with  alcohol,  so  that 
our  departure  attracted  no  attention.  It  was  a  warm 
night,  and  lightning  flashed  behind  the  Cordillera  like 
the  sword  of  a  god  glittering  on  the  battlements  of  the 
world.  Otherwise  the  darkness  was  profound,  and  even 
the  road  was  scarcely  visible  beneath  our  feet.  Before 
dawn  came  frost,  and  the  earth  was  whitened  as  with 
salt  on  the  level  plain.  When  the  asses  began  to  bray, 
and  the  sintinellas  to  utter  their  plover-like  cry,  we  knew 
that  the  dawn  was  at  hand.  Light,  creeping  over  the 
sky,  manifested  Indians  evidently  posted  for  observa- 
tion on  the  hill-tops  commanding  a  view  of  the  line  we 
should  have  followed  in  our  farther  survey,  while  two  or 
three  men  dogged  our  steps,  running  when  we  trotted 
and  always  keeping  close  behind.  It  was  not  till  we  had 
passed  Huarina  and  joined  the  carriage-road  to  La  Paz 
that  they  dropped  behind  and  left  us  to  proceed  un- 
observed. 

Once  again,  therefore,  we  had  to  traverse  the  weary 
Puna,  whose  monotony  began  to  oppress  us.     Machaca- 

255 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

marca  was  gained  before  noon,  and  a  long  halt  made 
there  to  bait  the  mules,  while  a  violent  thunder-storm 
burst  over  the  place.  In  the  afternoon  we  started  on 
again,  and,  if  our  animals  had  been  better  beasts,  we 
should  have  ridden  through  to  La  Paz,  but  on  arrival 
at  Okomisto  they  broke  down  and  another  night  had 
to  be  passed  on  the  floor  of  that  wretched  hostelry  in 
similar  circumstances  to  those  described  before.  We 
reached  La  Paz  early  next  morning,  and  made  applica- 
tion for  the  assistance  of  a  small  body  of  gendarmerie. 
The  application  was  readily  granted  by  the  authorities, 
but  they  said  it  would  be  some  days  before  the  men 
would  be  at  liberty.  So,  to  fill  up  the  interval,  I  arranged 
to  accompany  Bieber  on  a  visit  to  the  newly  opened 
gold-mine  of  Cusanaco. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
THE    GOLD-MINE    OF   CUSANACO 

BIEBER  and  I,  without  the  guides,  or  any  other 
companions  except  a  baggage  mule,  rode  out 
together  one  bright  morning  by  the  route  that 
goes  down  the  valley,  the  same  that  leads  to  Illi- 
mani.  I  could  not  fail  to  observe,  on  passing  Obrajes, 
how  rapidly  vegetation  had  advanced  since  I  was  there 
before.  Every  bush  was  in  flower  in  the  gardens,  and 
the  profusion  of  roses  was  a  joy  to  behold.  Each  cactus 
plant  bore  a  delicate  waxen  blossom,  and  all  the  trees 
were  decked  in  young  green  leaves.  Just  below  Obrajes 
came  the  opening  of  the  Calacoto  Valley,  up  which  we 
turned.  Narrow  below,  and  spreading  back  fanlike  to  a 
cirque  of  mountains  once  very  much  loftier  than  they  are 
now,  it  offers  some  of  the  strangest  scenery  that  can  be 
imagined.  The  valley,  or  rather  the  cirque,  is  cut  into 
the  thick  alluvium,  whose  excavated  walls  and  towers 
stand  round  it  as  high  hills,  and  divide  from  one  another 
the  several  deep-cut  gorges,  which  might  be  likened  in 
arrangement  to  the  ribs  of  a  fan.  Extremely  well-de- 
veloped earth-pyramids  are  found  in  clusters  in  several 
directions.  The  gorges  are  utterly  desert,  like  the  nalas 
of  Western  Tibet.  But  on  the  slopes  between  them,  and 
below,  near  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  there  are  large  and 
fertile  fincas,  depending  chiefly  upon  artificial  irrigation. 
R  257 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

With  little  delay  we  pushed  forward  in  an  easterly 
direction,  mounting  to  one  of  the  two  principal  de- 
pressions along  the  left  watershed  of  the  basin.  The 
depression  we  arrived  at  is  called  the  Alto  de  Animas. 
Over  it  passes  the  mule-track  to  Palca,  another  im- 
portant mining  centre,  and  then  on,  still  easterly, 
to  the  Pacuani  Pass  (15,226  feet,  Pentland),  which 
crosses  the  Cordillera  between  Illimani  and  Mururata 
and  is  one  of  the  main  ways  from  La  Paz  to  the  fertile 
province  of  Las  Yungas.  I  always  intended  to  devote 
a  week  to  visiting  Yungas,  which  can  be  reached  by 
a  yet  directer  route  going  northeastward  from  La  Paz 
over  an  easy  col.  Leaving  La  Paz  in  the  morning  on 
a  good  mule,  you  can  sleep  the  same  night  far  down 
the  other  side  of  the  Cordillera  in  orange  gardens  and 
the  luxury  of  semi-tropical  vegetation,  while  another 
day  willtake  you  to  the  plantations  where  coca  is 
grown  and  the  best  coffee  in  South  America,  and,  in- 
deed, some  of  the  best  in  the  world.  Yungas  can  like- 
wise be  reached  more  laboriously  by  descending  di- 
rectly down  the  La  Paz  Valley  and  traversing  by  its 
gorge  the  deep  gap  in  the  Cordillera. 

Arrived  on  the  Alto  de  Animas,  an  indescribable 
view  of  Illimani  burst  upon  our  gaze,  practically  the 
same  view  that  one  beholds  from  La  Paz,  except  that 
the  mountain  is  nearer  and  more  imposing,  rising  as  it 
does  above  the  intricate  multitude  of  ribs  and  green 
hills  that  cluster  at  its  foot.  A  little  lake,  almost  on 
the  crest  of  the  pass,  mirrored  the  peak  in  its  calm 
waters,  while  the  sharp  earth-pyramids  close  at  hand 
contrasted  well  with  the  suave  forms  of  the  wide  Palca 
basin  that  spread  before  us.     If  we  had  crossed  the 

258 


:^B;AHf^ 


UNIVERSITY 


of 


^AL'FOJ 


THE    GOLD-MINE    OF    CUSANACO 

neighboring  pass  to  the  south,  it  would  have  taken 
us  into  a  remote  valley  belonging  to  the  village  of  Col- 
lana,  a  remarkable  Indian  community,  which  manages 
rigidly  to  exclude  all  white  people  from  dwelling  among 
them.  If  a  white  man  comes  that  way  (as  in  the  rainy 
season  is  not  uncommon,  seeing  that  the  La  Paz  Valley 
road  is  then  impassable,  and  this  hill  route  is  the  only 
one  that  can  be  taken  by  travellers  who  have  to  go  in 
that  direction),  the  villagers  will  put  him  up  for  the 
night  in  the  rest-house  and  will  sell  him  necessary 
food,  but  the  next  day  he  must  go  on.  No  exception 
is  made,  even  in  the  case  of  a  government  official. 
As  the  villagers  are  always  well  behaved,  the  govern- 
ment wisely  respects  their  prejudices  and  leaves  them 
alone.  They  collect  the  taxes  themselves  and  pay 
them  with  due  regularity.  They  seem  to  live  the  life 
of  ancient  days  almost  unchanged. 

Either  pass  would  have  led  to  the  mines,  which  lie 
far  down  in  the  main  gorge  that  collects  the  drainage 
from  Mururata  and  the  northwest  side  of  Illimani  and 
empties  it  out  into  the  La  Paz  River  at  Esquino  de 
Pongo,  near  Taguapalca.  Riding  along  a  good  path 
among  cultivated  fields,  we  presently  bent  away  to  our 
right  from  the  Palca  road,  and  descended  into  the  bowels 
of  a  deep  gorge.  Its  walls,  cut  out  of  thick  sandstone 
and  conglomerate  deposits,  for  some  distance  were 
vertical,  and  there  was  one  splendid  tower  of  rock  stand- 
ing out  in  the  very  midst  of  the  gorge  like  a  great 
monument.  From  this  point  we  had  to  follow  the  very 
bed  of  the  now  almost  dry  torrent.  There  was  no  path ; 
the  mules  had  to  pick  their  difficult  way  among  great 
bowlders  and  most  irregular  ground.     When  it  was 

259 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

explained  to  me  that  every  piece  of  machinery  for  the 
mine,  and  all  the  large  pipes  required  for  it,  had  to  be 
transported  on  the  backs  of  mules  by  this  route,  I  easily 
understood  how  much  expense,  and,  still  more,  how  much 
organizing  energy,  were  necessary  to  open  up  profit- 
able mining  in  such  a  country.  All  along  the  bed  of 
this  valley,  and  more  especially  after  the  junction  has 
been  reached  with  the  main  stream  from  the  glaciers 
of  Mururata,  gold  is  found  in  the  gravel,  and  the  natives 
have  been  accustomed  for  centuries  to  wash  it  out  in  an 
inefficient  manner.  The  main  deposit  is  found  against 
the  bed-rock  under  the  gravel,  and  more  elaborate  means 
than  they  possess  are  necessary  before  that  can  be 
worked  in  any  quantity.  We  passed  one  small  mining 
station,  worked  on  behalf  of  a  La  Paz  gentleman  by  a 
few  laborers.  I  was  informed  that  the  area  of  valley 
claimed  by  him  is  undoubtedly  rich  in  gold. 

Below  this  point  the  gorge  again  narrows  to  a  width 
of  a  few  yards  and  is  encumbered  by  enormous  bowlders, 
cast  about  in  utter  confusion,  over  which  the  mules 
have  to  scramble  as  best  they  may.  One  or  two  of  the 
larger  masses,  which  quite  barred  the  route,  have  been 
blasted;  but,  even  so,  the  passage  of  this  and  similar 
narrow  places  remains  a  slow  and  difficult  process. 
Before  the  blasting,  the  only  way  of  arriving  at  a  lower 
point  in  the  valley  was  by  mounting  the  hill-side  on  the 
left  to  a  considerable  height,  traversing  a  giddy  path 
along  it  for  some  miles,  and  then  descending  steep 
zigzags,  which  I  afterwards  saw.  Bieber  related  to  me 
how,  the  last  time  he  came  that  way  on  a  visit  to  the 
Cusanaco  Mine,  he  brought  a  friend  and  some  newly 
purchased  mules,  which  were  the  pride  of  his  heart. 

260 


THE    GOLD-MINE    OF    CUSANACO 

Reaching  the  corner  where  the  descending  zigzags 
commenced,  he  dismounted  from  his  own  mule.  At 
that  moment  the  narrow  path  gave  way  under  the  lead- 
ing baggage-mule;  he  slithered  down  a  few  feet  of  slope 
and  then  fell  in  two  or  three  bounds  to  the  bottom  of 
the  gorge  below,  where  he  was  utterly  smashed  up. 
The  second  mule  blindly  followed  and  was  overtaken 
by  a  similar  fate.  The  third  likewise  began  to  slip 
down,  but  caught  in  some  extraordinary  fashion  on  a 
shrub  growing  out  of  the  slope,  and  Bieber  was  able  to 
rescue  him  and  drag  him  back  on  to  the  path.  The 
skeletons  of  the  unfortunate  beasts  were  still,  at  the 
time  of  my  visit,  lying  on  the  spot  to  which  they  fell. 

The  narrows  were  succeeded  by  an  open  basin,  and 
that  by  more  narrows  and  another  basin,  and  so  on, 
each  of  the  basins  being  occupied  by  the  flood-bed  of 
the  torrent,  and  of  course  littered  all  over  with  bowlders, 
large  and  small,  which  are  compacted  together  below 
the  surface  with  other  bowlders  and  smaller  gravel  and 
sand.  It  is  these  basins  that  were  about  to  be  worked  by 
the  company  whose  installation  we  were  going  to  visit. 
The  first  sign  that  we  were  approaching  the  end  of  our 
march  was  the  appearance  of  a  big,  newly  made  canal- 
bed,  carried  away  from  the  bottom  of  the  stream  along 
the  hill-side  on  our  right.  It  was  about  fifteen  feet  wide 
and  very  carefully  levelled.  Being  itself  almost  hori- 
zontal, and  the  valley  steadily  and  sometimes  steeply 
inclined,  the  canal  soon  diverged  from  the  torrent-bed, 
and  thus,  at  the  end  of  about  a  mile,  was  some  500  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  Thus,  in  the 
rainy  season,  a  great  head  of  water  would  be  obtained, 
for  it  is  only  in  the  rainy  season  that  there  is  water 

261 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

enough  to  reach  the  canal  at  all.  When  we  were  there, 
the  torrent  was  quite  small  and  could  easily  be  forded  at 
any  point;  but  when  the  rains  come  down,  the  stream 
rises  in  the  narrow  gorges  to  a  great  height  and  over- 
flows all  the  basins.  Then,  of  course,  the  canal  would 
be  filled,  and  the  head  of  water  become  a  powerful 
source  of  energy.  The  canal  was  still  in  process  of 
being  made,  though  it  was  approaching  completion.  It 
was  an  astonishing  sight  to  behold  in  so  wild  and 
remote  a  solitude  the  signs  of  such  elaborate  human 
contrivance,  evidently  the  work  of  a  large  body  of  or- 
ganized men.  Its  after  history  was  less  noble  than  its 
promise.  When  the  rains  came  the  hill-side  began  to 
move,  and  fell  in  great  land-slips  on  the  canal,  obliter- 
ating most  of  it  in  a  very  short  time.  Such  are  some 
of  the  disappointments  of  gold-miners  in  these  difficult 
and  remote  countries. 

As  yet  there  were  no  men  in  sight,  but,  on  rounding 
a  corner,  the  little  habitations  of  the  mine  came  in 
view  on  the  hill-side  above.  Turning  another  comer, 
we  emerged  upon  the  basin  which  was  to  be  the  scene 
of  the  first  great  gold-washing.  Hundreds  of  Indians 
were  at  work,  most  of  them  busily  engaged  either  in 
drilling  the  bowlders  for  blasting  or  in  removing  the 
shattered  fragments  of  the  previous  day's  explosions. 
The  broken  rocks  had  been  carefully  and  elaborately 
built  together  down  the  middle  of  the  basin  into  a  long 
wall,  about  as  wide  as  a  road,  which  I  was  told  was  not 
planted  merely  on  the  surface  of  the  alluvial  debris, 
but  had  been  built  down  in  an  excavation  to  bed-rock 
below.  The  object  of  this  wall  was  so  to  divide  the 
basin  that,  when  the  rainy  season  came  and  the  flood 

262 


THE    GOLD-MINE    OF    CUSANACO 

descended,  the  whole  of  it  might  be  diverted  to  one 
side  of  the  wall,  leaving  the  gravel  on  the  other  side 
dry  and  able  to  be  washed  through  the  sluices.  Every 
bowlder,  therefore,  and  rock  too  big  to  be  passed  through 
the  sluices  had  to  be  removed,  not  merely  from  the  sur- 
face of  the  side  first  to  be  worked,  but  right  down  to  bed- 
rock— an  immense  labor.  This  work,  and  the  bmlding 
of  the  wall,  were  likewise  approaching  completion.  At 
the  moment  of  our  arrival  the  ground  may  be  said  to 
have  been  almost  prepared  for  the  commencement  of 
operations.  There  still  remained  the  machinery  to 
be  installed.  That  had  arrived  in  La  Paz,  but  had 
not  yet  been  brought  up.  An  important  part  of  it  con- 
sisted of  a  great  pipe,  into  which  the  water  in  the  canal 
was  to  be  turned,  as  I  shall  presently  describe  in  con- 
nection with  another  mine. 

We  were  kindly  received  by  the  director  of  the  works, 
Professor  A.  A.  Hard,  of  the  United  States.  He  took 
us  to  his  cottage  on  a  shelf  of  the  hill,  half-way  between 
the  canal  above  and  the  gravel-basin  below.  It  looked 
none  too  secure  in  position,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to 
hear  that,  a  short  time  before,  a  great  bowlder,  rushing 
down  the  hill,  had  crashed  into  it  on  one  side  and 
out  the  other,  carrying  clean  away  the  bedroom  walls, 
roof,  furniture,  and  everything.  Fortunately  no  one 
was  within  at  the  time.  In  the  rainy  season,  when  the 
hill-side  is  on  the  move  and  mud-avalanches  are  not 
rarities,  I  should  imagine  that  a  hut  thus  situated 
would  be  far  from  a  restful  place  of  abode.  The  pro- 
fessor was  one  of  the  quietest-mannered  men  you  can 
imagine.  Nothing  seemed  to  disturb  his  perfect  equa- 
nimity.   His  benevolent  face  looked  forth  beneath  its 

263 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

covering  of  white  hair  with  equal  composure  upon 
whatever  might  happen.  He  had  come  a  year  or  two 
before  merely  to  give  an  opinion  upon  the  prospects  of 
the  deposit,  having  then  been,  as  he  imagined,  about 
to  start  for  Java;  but  he  had  stayed  on  from  month 
to  month  in  response  to  the  urgent  requests  of  his 
employers,  with  few  comforts  beyond  the  commodities 
of  his  portmanteau ;  but  he  took  things  as  they  came, 
with  no  trace  of  irritation.  He  knew  neither  Span- 
ish nor,  of  course,  the  Indian  dialects,  and  he  made 
no  attempt  to  learn  any  of  them,  for,  he  said,  ''I  just 
speak  to  them  all  in  English,  slowly,  quietly,  and  dis- 
tinctly, and  they  understand/'  He  said:  ''When  I 
take  you  down  among  the  men,  you  will  see  they  all 
know  enough  English  for  our  purposes;  I  find  they 
rather  prefer  to  be  spoken  to  by  me  like  that  than  to  be 
worried  in  their  own  tongue  by  other  people/' 

His  experience  with  Indians,  the  majority  of  whom 
came  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  exclusive  Collana 
village  above  described,  w^as  very  interesting.  He  said 
that  if  well  treated,  and  prevented  from  obtaining 
intoxicating  drinks,  they  were  easy  to  live  with.  But 
he  said,  "If  I  find  a  bottle  of  spirits  in  the  possession 
of  any  of  them,  it  is  immediately  confiscated  and  broken 
over  the  hill-side.''  He  found  them  honest,  and,  to  my 
surprise,  described  them  as  good-tempered;  and  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  when  I  accompanied  him  among  the 
workmen  and  saw  the  smiles  with  which  they  greeted 
him,  I  felt  that  he  had  justified  his  claim  on  their  behalf. 
He  said  that  the  trouble  with  Indians  was  that  they  had 
been  so  often  swindled  by  white  men;  but  that  when 
they  found  that  they  got  their  money  in  return  for  their 

264 


ALTO    DE   ANIMAS 


THE    PALCA    VALLEY    ROAD 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE    GOLD-MINE    OF    CUSANACO 

work,  and  their  prejudices  were  not  interfered  with 
and  they  were  kindly  treated,  they  were  very  easily 
managed,  like  children.  Their  delight  in  explosions, 
he  said,  was  very  great.  Every  evening  the  last  thing 
done  was  to  fire  all  the  cartridges  that  had  been  placed 
in  position  during  the  afternoon ;  this  was  a  great  event, 
and  was  looked  forward  to  not  only  by  the  workmen, 
but  by  all  their  wives  in  the  village  of  little  arbors  that 
had  sprung  up  around  the  workings.  I  perfectly  sym- 
pathized with  this  attitude  of  mind,  and  thoroughly 
enjoyed  the  blast  myself  when  it  took  place;  but  the 
way  the  stones  shot  up  into  the  air,  one  of  them  flying 
even  over  our  heads,  though  we  stood  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, was  somewhat  terrifying. 

A  delightful  evening  was  spent  with  our  hospitable 
entertainers.  On  such  occasions,  when  men  meet  from 
various  parts  of  the  world  in  the  rough  accommodation 
of  a  camp,  knowing  that  on  the  morrow  they  will  prob- 
ably separate  forever,  there  springs  up  without  delay 
an  easy  kindliness  of  mutual  relation  that  closely  re- 
sembles established  friendship.  Adventures  are  related, 
and  an  almost  intimate  exchange  of  personal  experi- 
ences takes  place.  We  talked  of  Indians  and  of  sport, 
of  the  gold  deposits  of  Bolivia,  of  our  various  difficulties, 
our  various  failures  and  successes.  I  examined  the 
professor  on  the  immediate  geography  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, which  he  had  to  some  extent  explored,  and  I  in- 
duced him  to  describe  to  me  the  condition  of  affairs  in 
the  rainy  season,  which  appears  to  resemble  in  all 
material  respects  the  monsoon  in  India.  To  give  an 
idea  of  the  force  of  the  torrent  when  in  high  flood,  he 
showed  me  enormous  bowlders,  which  I  should  never 

265 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

have  imagined  that  water  could  possibly  move,  and 
related  how  one  of  them  had  been  brought  down  a 
distance  of  about  fifty  yards  in  a  single  night.  He 
described  the  thunderous  rumbling  of  these  great  rocks 
as  they  pounded  against  one  another  and  rolled  on 
and  on  in  the  cataract. 

Next  day  we  returned  by  the  way  we  had  come, 
accompanied  for  a  mile  or  two  by  the  professor.  Near 
the  finca  of  Calacoto  my  good  friend  Don  Federico 
Granier  rode  up,  horse  and  man  larger  than  one  often 
sees  in  Bolivia,  and  took  us  into  the  beautiful  garden  of 
the  finca,  where  we  sat  for  a  while  in  the  summer-house 
and  refreshed  ourselves  with  wine  and  fruit  before  rid- 
ing back  together  to  La  Paz.  Alas !  when  I  revisited 
Bolivia  in  1900  and  asked  after  him,  I  learned  that  he 
too  had  joined  the  majority 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE    YANI    MINE 

THE  Yani  Mine,  of  which  my  friend  Mr.  Bieber  was 
managing  director,  was  the  only  other  BoHvian 
gold-mine  I  had  an  opportunity  of  describing. 
Bieber  was  a  young  Englishman,  of  a  type  resembling 
that  of  our  subalterns  on  the  Indian  frontier,  rather  than 
the  ordinary  man  of  business.  He  was  full  of  life,  energy, 
sport,  and  delight  in  adventure.  His  superabundant 
activity  led  him  to  master  the  practical  part  of  whatever 
work  came  under  his  hand.  If  he  had  a  few  months^  holi- 
day, he  would  rush  off  to  some  big  Argentine  ranch,  learn 
the  craft  of  the  gaucho,  and  return  with  new  skill  in  the 
managing  of  mules  and  horses,  the  loading  of  caravans, 
and  the  driving  of  them  in  difficult  places.  He  was  de- 
voted to  his  mule-train  and  equipments,  which,  in  fact, 
were  the  best  I  saw  in  Bolivia.  The  mules  had  been 
carefully  selected  during  a  period  of  two  or  three  years. 
Their  saddles,  instead  of  being  the  clumsy  and  heavy 
native  articles,  were  of  the  light  and  well-designed  Cali- 
fornian  pattern.  Bieber  could  load,  shoe,  doctor,  and 
drive  his  animals.  The  saddle  was  his  true  home; 
he  was  forever  dashing  from  La  Paz  to  Yani,  from 
Yani  to  Chililaya.  Even  when  business  did  not  propel 
him,  he  found  pleasure  in  opportunities  of  further  ex- 
ertion.   He  was  the  reorganizer  of  the  races  at  La  Paz — 

267 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

a  man  never  at  rest,  the  very  life  of  the  whole  country- 
side. 

He  had  had  previous  experience  in  gold-mining  in 
the  Araca  Valley,  and  I  dare  say  elsewhere,  but  the 
Yani  Mine  was  his  creation,  and  his  whole  existence 
was  bound  up  in  its  success.  It  is  situated  in  a  high 
valley  on  the  northern  spur  of  Illampu,  just  at  the  head 
of  the  famous  Tipuani  River.  Here  there  was  reported 
to  be — and  careful  experiments  confirmed  the  report — 
a  bank  of  auriferous  gravel  some  hundred  feet  or  more 
thick,  deposited  along  the  side  of  the  Challapampa 
stream,  a  tributary  of  the  Tipuani.  To  wash  the  gold 
out  of  the  gravel-bank  water  is  needed,  and  this  the  river 
only  supplies  during  the  rainy  season,  November  or 
December  to  April  or  May.  In  other  months  work  has 
to  stop.  At  Yani,  as  at  Cusanaco,  a  canal  was  cut 
from  a  certain  point  in  the  stream  and  carried  for  a 
mile  or  so,  nearly  level  along  one  side  of  the  valley, 
till  the  end  of  it  came  to  be  400  to  500  feet  above  the 
valley  bottom.  Here  the  canal  water  was  to  be  turned 
into  a  great  iron  pipe  that  goes  straight  down-hill.  The 
pipe  is  four  feet  in  diameter  at  the  upper  end,  and  nar- 
rows down  below  to  eighteen  inches. 

At  the  bottom  is  a  kind  of  fire-hose  nozzle  arrange- 
ment, called  a  giant,  through  which  the  water,  now 
under  enormous  pressure,  is  issued  and  directed  in  a 
stream,  which  may  be  as  much  as  eight  inches  in 
diameter.  This  huge  water-jet  will  leap  like  a  fountain 
400  feet  into  the  air,  with  a  force  measured  by  2260 
horse-power.  The  use  of  this  mighty  agent  is  to  cut 
down  the  gravel-bank;  the  jet  is  directed  by  a  skilful 
Californian  piper  against  the  foot  of  the  bank,  where  it 

268 


THE    YANI    MINE 

hollows  out  a  cave  and  undercuts  the  hill-side.  The 
moment  at  last  comes  when  the  superincumbent  gravel, 
almost  as  hard  as  conglomerate,  gives  way,  and  10,000 
tons  of  the  mountain  fall  in  a  man-made  avalanche. 
Skill  is  required  so  to  direct  the  undercutting  that  this 
huge  mass  may  fall  exactly  in  the  right  place,  where  it 
can  be  dealt  with  easily  afterwards ;  for  the  whole  of  it 
must  be  washed  down  a  trough  into  and  through  the 
sluices,  which  catch  the  heavy  particles  of  gold  and 
allow  the  lighter  rocks,  pebbles,  and  sand  to  be  swept 
away  by  the  rush  of  water  over  the  dump  at  the  end 
of  the  sluice,  and  down  into  the  natural  torrent. 

The  gold  found  is  for  the  most  part  relatively  large 
and  angular,  showing  that  it  has  not  been  carried  far 
from  its  ancient  mother-lode  or  much  rubbed  by  move- 
ment. The  lower  parts  of  the  bank  are,  of  course, 
richer  than  the  upper,  for  gold  tends  to  sink  as  a  balloon 
to  rise,  but  all  levels  of  the  bank  were  believed  to  contain 
some  gold,  and  all  have  to  be  washed  through  the  six- 
foot  sluice.  Some  of  the  abundant  water-power  is  em- 
ployed to  produce  electric  light,  whereby  work  can  be 
continued  night  and  day  during  the  rainy  months.  It 
will  thus  be  seen  that  1400  feet  of  heavy  iron  piping, 
the  great  giants,  a  quantity  of  lumber  for  sluices,  the 
dynamos,  water-wheel,  and  other  electric-light  plant, 
had  to  be  installed  before  work  could  begin.  All  this 
machinery  had  to  be  fetched  from  San  Francisco,  landed 
in  the  open  roadstead  of  Mollendo,  where  the  surf  always 
furiously  rages,  hauled  by  train  over  a  pass  as  high  as 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  transshipped  across  Lake 
Titicaca,  and  carried  on  the  backs  of  mules  to  the  mine. 

Compared  with  the  last  stage  all  else  was  child's  play. 

269 


THE    BOLIVIAN  ANDES 

The  ''road  ''  from  Chililaya  to  the  mine  was  a  thing  that 
home-dwelling  folk  will  find  a  difficulty  in  imagining. 
It  is  nowhere  a  made  road,  but  only  a  worn-down  track, 
littered  over  with  loose  round  stones  of  all  sizes,  from 
that  of  a  bale  of  cotton  to  a  pebble.  It  rises  gently 
enough  from  the  lake  to  the  Huallata  Pass  (14,110  feet), 
then  it  plunges  down  in  a  few  miles,  as  already  de- 
scribed, to  the  little  town  of  Sorata,  at  about  8000  feet. 
That  is  the  first  day's  journey.  From  Sorata  the  track 
rises  again  to  a  pass  about  16,000  feet  high,  and  only 
gets  there  by  coasting  frightful  precipices  and  climb- 
ing hideous  staircases,  which  most  men  would  not  care 
to  pass  on  foot.  It  reminded  me  of  Kipling's  lines  on 
the  troubles  of  Tommy  Atkins  with  mountain-guns  : 

"There's  a  wheel  on  the  Horns   o'   the  mornin',  an'   a   wheel  on 

the  edge  o'  the  Pit, 
An'  a  drop  into  nothin'  beneath  you  as  straight  as  a  beggar  can 

spit: 
With  the  sweat  runnin'  out  o'  your  shirt-sleeves,  an'  the  sun  off 

the  snow  in  your  face. 
An'  'arf  o'  the  men  on  the  drag-ropes  to  hold  the  old  gun  in  'er 

place." 

After  a  descent  of  1000  feet  comes  yet  another 
pass  of  over  16,000  feet,  whence  in  two  leagues  you  go 
down  to  the  mine,  whose  altitude  above  sea-level  is 
about  11,000  feet.  To  transport  some  hundreds  of 
loads  of  costly  machinery  over  such  a  route  was,  in- 
deed, a  difficult  enterprise.  It  was  carried  out  under  the 
personal  supervision  of  my  friend  in  a  most  sporting 
fashion.  One  or  more  of  the  loads  could  not  be  made 
to  weigh  less  than  600  pounds.*    The  average  load 

*The  regulation  load  for  an  Indian-govemment-service  mule  is 
100  pounds. 

270 


THE    YANI    MINE 

was  nearly  300  pounds.  Time  and  again  the  heavy 
loads  had  to  be  dismounted  to  relieve  a  fatigued  mule. 
In  bad  places  a  gang  of  men  had  to  carry  the  larger 
pieces.  When  night  came  on,  all  had  to  sleep  where 
they  happened  to  be.  In  case  of  a  fall,  mule  and  bur- 
den would  have  gone  perhaps  2000  feet,  bounding  over 
a  precipice,  before  aught  would  have  stopped  them. 
Such  a  fate  would  have  ended  the  utility  of  a  big  piece 
of  cast-iron,  and  the  installation  of  the  mine  would  have 
been  delayed  perhaps  over  a  whole  rainy  season.  The 
fact  that  no  such  accident  happened  on  so  appalling  a 
track  speaks  volumes  for  the  energy  of  Bieber,  who,  I 
am  told,  was  ever  in  the  thick  of  the  struggle,  loading 
and  leading  the  mules  himself  in  the  worst  places,  and 
always  directing  his  huge  caravan  of  beasts  and  men. 
He  would  have  been  a  most  useful  transport-officer 
on  an  Afghan  frontier  campaign.  When,  after  re- 
peated journeys,  all  the  plant  had  been  brought  to  the 
mine,  the  big  pipe  had  to  be  riveted  together  and  put  in 
place;  the  mile  of  canal  had  to  be  dug  out;  the  sluices 
had  to  be  set  up.  They  dug  the  first  sod  of  the  canal  in 
August.  The  machinery  began  to  arrive  in  September. 
By  January  they  were  washing  gold.  The  following 
dry  season — that  during  which  I  was  in  Bolivia — was 
devoted  to  the  installation  of  the  electric  light.  As  soon 
as  the  rains  should  really  break,  gold-washing  was  to 
be  seriously  begun. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  all  this  work  was  ac- 
complished by  native  Indian  labor,  under  the  direction 
of  only  five  white  men,  none  of  whom  knew  the  Aymara 
tongue.  My  only  experience  of  Indians  has  not  been 
pleasant,  but  it  was  my  ill  fortune  to  be  engaged  on 

271 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

work  which  violated  their  prejudices  and  excited  their 
suspicions.  Mining  and  transport  they  understand, 
and  the  manager  of  Yani  told  me  that  he  had  found 
them  good  men  to  work  with.  The  fact  that  they  are 
distrustful  of  white  employers  is  a  patent  criticism 
of  the  way  they  have  been  treated  in  the  past.  From 
a  man  they  do  not  know  they  insist  on  payment  in  ad- 
vance, partly  as  a  guarantee,  partly  also  because  they 
have  to  buy  their  own  food  and  take  it  up  to  the  mine 
with  them,  besides  providing  for  the  needs  of  their  wives 
and  families  in  their  absence.  These  men  have  to  be 
enlisted  from  their  villages,  and  most  of  them  come 
from  the  Puna,  for  the  population  in  the  eastern  valleys 
is  very  small,  there  being  little  or  no  food  produced  in 
the  forest  region,  fertile  though  it  would  be  if  any  at- 
tempt were  made  to  cultivate  it.  Some  trouble  is  ex- 
perienced in  enlisting  the  men,  as  the  employer  is  liable 
to  be  dependent  upon  the  village  corregidors,  who  are 
not  always  willing  to  put  themselves  out  for  his  con- 
venience. Recruiting  agents  are  also  employed,  some- 
times with  good  enough  results.  In  his  first  year 
Bieber  had  to  employ  such  agents,  who  went  to  Indian 
villages  and  paid  out  no  less  than  10,000  Bolivian  dol- 
lars in  advance  to  native  laborers.  At  the  end  of  the 
season  only  forty-two  of  these  dollars  were  not  worked 
off,  and  even  for  them  security  was  given — a  remarkable 
proof  of  the  honesty  of  these  peculiar  people.  They 
work  hard  for  rather  more  than  ten  hours  a  day,  for  pay 
varying,  in  accordance  with  their  skill,  from  about  eight 
pence  to  about  two  shillings  per  day.  The  men  come 
in  gangs  of  a  dozen  or  so,  and  usually  remain  at  work 
for  fourteen  or  twenty-one  days ;  then  they  go,  and  a  new 

272 


THE    YANI    MINE 

gang  must  be  arranged  for  to  take  their  places.  This 
year,  however,  men  had  undertaken  to  come  and  work 
for  the  whole  season  without  asking  for  their  pay  in 
advance.  Such  is  the  result  of  a  single  season's  good 
treatment. 

The  great  trouble  with  the  Indians  is  the  intolerable 
number  of  holidays  and  fetes  they  are  accustomed  to 
observe.  In  an  agricultural  community  the  mischief 
is  not  important,  but  in  the  case  of  a  mine,  in  which 
much  capital  has  been  sunk,  and  where  climate  pre- 
vents work  during  eight  months  of  the  year,  every  hour 
of  the  remaining  four  months  is,  of  course,  important. 
What  the  future  of  the  Yard  Mine  may  be  I  have  no 
means  of  knowing,  nor  can  I  state  whether  it  is  really 
rich  in  gold.  My  interest  in  it  was  quickened,  not  by  its 
position  as  a  commercial  venture,  but  by  the  energy 
with  which  it  was  worked,  and  the  opportunity  it  gave 
to  a  young  fellow-countryman  to  display,  on  the  mar- 
gins of  South  American  civilization,  the  self -same  quali- 
ties which  have  made  the  British  Empire.  It  was  with 
great  sorrow,  therefore,  that  shortly  after  my  return  to 
England  I  received  the  news  of  the  sudden  death  at  Yani 
of  Mr.  N.  E.  Bieber.  A  big  land-slip  came  and  ruined 
much  of  his  work,  and  the  shock  was  the  cause  of  his 
death. 
s 


CHAPTER  XXV 
ASCENT   OF  PENAS  HILL 

IN  response  to  my  application  to  the  authorities,  and 
after  no  undue  delay,  an  officer  of  the  gendarmerie, 
with  a  dozen  men,  whom  he  described  as  "  the  force/' 
marched  away  from  La  Paz  to  reach  Machaca-marca  in 
two  days.  We  followed  and  caught  them  up  at  the 
post-house.  All  the  men  were  apparently  half-breeds 
or  cholos,  bright,  merry  fellows,  with  much  vivacity 
and  physically  strong,  though  short.  In  many  respects 
they  reminded  me  of  Ghurkas.  Their  officer  was  a 
decent  fellow  and  had  the  fear  of  the  prefect  before  his 
eyes,  though  there  is  no  doubt  that  under  any  circum-^ 
stances  he  would  have  done  his  duty  well ;  but  the  his- 
tory of  my  previous  misadventure  with  his  comrade, 
who  got  drunk  on  the  way  to  Illimani,  having  been  re- 
lated to  him,  he  felt  that  the  credit  of  his  branch  of  the 
Bolivian  forces  was  at  stake. 

On  the  following  morning  we  rode  away  over  the 
Puna  towards  the  foot  of  the  Vilahaque  Hill.  There 
was  no  track  in  the  direction  we  took,  so  we  had  to  strike 
across  the  newly  ploughed  fields.  For  the  men  march- 
ing on  foot  with  heavy  packs  on  their  backs  the  way 
was  fatiguing  enough,  I  have  no  doubt.  But  they 
covered  the  ground  as  fast  as  we  did,  keeping  up  a 
sort  of  trot  and  continually  shouting  as  they  went. 

274 


K   FORCE 


THE   CUSANACO    GOLD-MINE 


ASCENT    OF    PENAS    HILL 

For  footgear  they  wore  leather  sandals,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  the  same  as  the  chapplis  worn  by  the  na- 
tives of  Kashmir.  I  observed  that  the  Indians  held 
the  men  in  much  respect  and  ran  away  in  all  directions 
when  they  saw  them  coming ;  but  such  Indians  as  they 
did  come  close  to  they  hailed  with  jests  and  laughter, 
and  the  whole  atmosphere  that  surrounded  them  was 
an  atmosphere  of  merriment  and  good-fellowship. 

We  had  started  at  an  early  hour,  and  the  fields  were 
practically  abandoned.  About  seven  o'clock  the  agri- 
cultural laborers  came  forth  and  began  their  work. 
Evidently  they  are  a  lazy  lot  of  men,  for  they  do  not 
begin  to  work  before  from  seven  till  nine  in  the  morning, 
and  you  see  them  all  leaving  off  about  five  in  the  after- 
noon. My  Alpine  guides  had  much  to  say  about  the 
backward  character  of  the  system  of  agriculture.  ''If 
this  was  our  country,''  they  said,  "it  would  look  very 
different ;  but  these  people  don't  know  how  to  work,  and, 
for  that  matter,  judging  by  all  these  ruined  farm-houses 
that  we  see,  the  country  appears  to  be  going  back- 
ward rather  than  forward."  The  large  number  of 
fields  lying  fallow  added,  of  course,  to  the  abandoned 
appearance  of  a  great  part  of  the  land.  Occasionally 
one  came  across  a  group  of  fields  far  better  cultivated 
than  the  rest,  and  well  manured.  Much  land  is  wasted 
by  the  broad  piles  of  stones  collected  upon  it ;  they  were 
quite  unnecessarily  expansive,  and  Pellissier  said  that 
in  his  country,  instead  of  piling  the  stones  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground,  they  would  dig  a  deep  trench  and 
bury  them.  In  some  parts  almost  a  quarter  of  the 
cultivable  area  seemed  to  be  wasted  on  stone  -  heaps. 
What  I  think  struck  my  guides  more  than  anything  else 

275 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

was  the  appalling  waste  on  the  part  of  nature  in  putting 
so  fine  a  range  of  mountains  as  this  snowy  Cordillera 
in  such  an  out-of-the-way  country.  "  If  w^e  could  have 
these  mountains,  or  even  one  of  them/'  they  said,  ''in 
the  Val  Tournanche,  it  would  be  a  fortune  to  our  vil- 
lage; but  here,  what  good  are  they  to  anybody?'' 

Thus  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  broad  Vilahaque  Hill,  which  stretches  in 
a  northwest  -  southeast  direction,  parallel  to  the  Cor- 
dillera and  cut  off  by  valleys  on  its  east  side  from  the 
slopes  that  rise  to  the  great  range.  In  the  middle  of  its 
Puna  face  there  is  a  great  bay  reaching  into  the  hill ; 
at  the  mouth  of  this  bay  is  the  finca  of  Santa  Ana.  The 
Indians  of  the  finca  received  us  with  unusual  respect 
and  hurried  away  to  fetch  the  major-domo,  who,  in  a 
broad  and  general  fashion,  placed  the  whole  country- 
side at  our  disposition.  Had  we  not  been  accompanied 
by  ''the  force,"  things  would  not  have  gone  so  smoothly, 
for  the  Indians  of  Santa  Ana  have  a  bad  reputation. 
It  was  here  that  Mr.  Bandolier,  when  he  was  excavat- 
ing for  the  remains  of  prehistoric  Bolivia,  suffered  so 
many  tribulations  at  the  hands  of  the  natives,  and 
ultimately  had  to  be  protected  by  gendarmes  before  he 
could  finish  his  work. 

After  a  brief  meal  we  rode  on  up  the  corrie  to  ascend 
the  highest  point  of  the  hill  behind,  the  soldiers  follow- 
ing a  short  time  afterwards  and  covering  our  rear,  but 
not  coming  to  the  top.  A  rough  track  circled  round 
more  or  less  in  the  direction  we  wanted  to  go,  traversing 
some  smooth  surfaces  of  red  sandstone  and  beds  of  con- 
glomerate, the  same  formation  we  had  struck  at  Abi- 
chaca  and  were  presently  to  find  forming  the  mass  of 

276 


ASCENT   OF    PENAS    HILL 

the  Penas  Hill.  Higher  up  came  a  regular  alp.  Thus, 
by  steepening  slopes,  we  gained  the  final  ridge,  where 
a  number  of  teeth  of  red  rock  and  curiously  weathered 
lumps  of  conglomerate  stuck  out  like  the  edge  of  a  saw. 
Keeping  along  beneath  these  and  then  mounting  a 
final  rounded  divide,  we  attained  the  summit.  We 
arrived  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  a  snow-storm  was 
gathering  and  presently  burst  upon  us.  These  snow- 
storms are  in  the  nature  of  showers,  and  pass  away 
almost  as  rapidly  as  they  form.  When  the  storm  had 
gone  by,  and  the  main  range  cleared  once  more,  we 
were  surprised  to  find  how  much  snow  had  fallen 
along  its  track  in  a  brief  time. 

A  couple  of  natives  joined  us  on  the  top,  and  we  saw 
a  good  many  more  collected  down  below  watching  us, 
but  frightened  from  approaching  owing  to  the  presence 
of  ''the  force.''  There  was  a  ruined  chulpa  where  we 
set  up  the  theodolite,  and  evidently  this  also  was  a  more 
or  less  sacred  place.  Miniature  pots,  a  tiny  flag,  a  small 
wooden  cross,  a  new  spindle,  and  a  saucer  with  bits  of 
charcoal  and  incense  in  it  were  lying  about.  After 
completing  the  observations  on  the  highest  point,  I 
built  a  stone-man.  Then  we  visited  an  outlying  point, 
with  a  jutting  rock  on  its  summit,  whose  position  I 
carefully  fixed.  The  object  of  so  doing  was  to  have  a 
point  to  fall  back  upon  in  case  my  stone-man  on  the 
higher  point  should  be  thrown  down  by  the  natives, 
as  that  on  Abichaca  had  been.  It  was  well  that  I  took 
this  precaution,  for,  after  we  had  quitted  the  neigh- 
borhood, the  village  Indians  came  up  and  removed 
every  trace  of  the  stone-man. 

Descending  rapidly  by  the  way  we  had  come,  we 

277 


THE   BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

joined  the  troops  and  rode  back  to  the  finca.  In  dis- 
cussion with  the  of&cer,  I  learned  that  in  his  opinion 
the  uncertainty  of  the  weather  at  this  time  was  due  to 
the  moon.  He  said  that  if  the  moon  was  unfavorable 
you  always  had  bad  weather  on  the  Puna,  three  days 
before  and  three  days  after  its  change.  This  was  the 
view  of  almost  every  man  in  Bolivia  with  whom  I  spoke  ; 
for  them  the  moon  was  the  great  agent  in  making  good 
or  bad  weather,  though  none  of  them  agreed  as  to  when 
the  bad  weather  came — whether  it  was,  as  the  officer 
said,  on  either  side  of  the  change,  or  whether  it  followed 
or  preceded  the  change ;  as  Sir  Thomas  Roe  observed 
in  India,  ''the  moone  is  a  great  ladie  of  weather  in 
these  parts  and  requires  much  obseruation.''  The  ex- 
traordinarily universal  belief  in  the  effect  of  changes  of 
the  moon  upon  weather  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  modern  superstitious  survivals. 

Leaving  tne  gendarmes  to  spend  the  night  at  the 
finca,  we  returned  to  our  baggage  at  Machaca-marca, 
it  being  arranged  that  the  men  should  march  across 
on  the  following  day  to  the  Pariri  finca  at  the  foot 
of  the  Pefias  Hill,  where  we  were  to  join  them  in  the 
evening.  The  night  spent  at  Machaca-marca  was 
far  from  a  restfut  one.  The  manager  of  the  place  had 
gone  away,  and  there  were  only  cholos  in  charge  of 
it.  Having  already  spent  several  nights  in  this  post- 
house,  its  ways  were  well  known  to  us.  The  room  in 
which  we  were  wont  to  sleep  was  the  chamber  where 
luncheon  is  served  for  travellers  passing  between 
Chililaya  and  La  Paz.  There  was  an  inner  room,  which 
could  only  be  reached  by  passing  through  ours,  and 
this  inner  room  used  to  be  occupied  by  the  women  ser- 

278 


ASCENT    OF    PENAS    HILL 

vants  of  the  place.  This  night,  however,  a  couple  of 
men  were  in  occupation,  and  they  evidently  had  some- 
thing on  their  minds.  No  sooner  had  we  retired  to 
rest  than  one  of  them  came  out,  fidgeted  about,  and 
retreated.  Presently  he  came  out  again,  locked  the 
outer  door  leading  from  our  room  into  the  court-yard, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  going  off  with  the  key.  We 
fortunately  observed  the  action  and  deprived  him  of 
the  key,  though  not  in  the  least  understanding  what 
his  idea  was.  During  the  next  couple  of  hours  he  kept 
coming  out,  borrowing  the  key,  unlocking  the  door  and 
going  away  for  a  few  minutes,  after  which  he  would 
return  and  make  another  attempt  to  carry  off  the  object 
of  his  desires.  Baffled  in  this  plan  he  remained  quiet 
for  a  time. 

I  went  to  sleep,  and  so  missed  some  of  these  manoeu- 
vres, but  the  guides,  convinced  that  something  was 
wrong,  remained  awake  and  kept  a  Ifght  burning. 
About  midnight  they  roused  me,  and  we  heard  just 
outside  the  place  a  few  notes  blown  softly  on  an  Indian 
pipe.  Then  several  men,  coming  from  a  village  on 
the  Puna,  crept  up  to  the  window  of  the  next  room  and 
held  a  whispered  conversation  with  the  man  within  it. 
It  now  became  evident  that  his  plan  had  been  to  give 
them  the  key  of  the  outer  door,  so  that  they  might 
obtain  an  entry  to  our  room,  when  we  were  asleep,  and 
steal  some  of  our  goods.  Not  having  the  key,  they, 
nevertheless,  crept  round  to  the  door,  and  we  heard 
them  fumbling  at  it.  Coming  quietly  up  on  our  side 
we  unlocked  it  and  ran  forth,  each  armed  with  a  revolver, 
whereupon  the  Indians  took  to  flight  as  fast  as  their 
legs  could  carry  them,  some  scouring  away  over  the 

279 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

plain,  others  hiding  among  the  hay-stacks.  We  routed 
them  out  from  their  concealments  and  drove  them  off. 
Later  on,  I  believe,  one  of  the  guides  heard  them  return, 
but  they  gave  us  no  more  trouble. 

Riding  away,  with  all  our  baggage,  at  an  early  hour 
on  the  following  morning,  we  struck  over  the  fields  in 
the  direction  of  the  mountains,  and  so  crossed  the  road 
which  the  gendarmes  would  have  to  follow.  An  hour 
later  they  came  in  sight,  and  we  went  on  together  to 
the  Pariri  fijtca,  a  rather  large  establishment,  with 
a  mud-built  church  of  the  usual  pretentious  and  not 
ineffective  architecture  of  old  Bolivia.  Near  to  it  was 
the  house  of  the  proprietor,  consisting  of  a  plain  outer 
court,  with  a  cloistered  court  farther  in,  and  a  corral 
behind  for  cattle.  The  middle  court  was  surrounded 
by  rooms,  which  were  placed  at  our  disposal.  The 
cloister  consisted  of  a  raised  tiled  pavement,  carrying 
octagonal  columns  made  of  mud,  with  tile  capitals 
supporting  depressed  arches.  The  rooms  were  in  a  state 
of  bad  repair,  as  is  usual  in  all  these  fincas.  They  had 
tiled  floors,  and  paper  falling  from  the  walls,  the  ceil- 
ings likewise  falling  in.  There  were  no  windows;  all 
the  light  came  in  at  the  doors. 

Ample  time  remained  to  have  ascended  Peiias  Hill 
and  completed  our  work  this  day,  but  the  weather 
was  atrocious;  a  gale  of  wind  blew,  and  snow-storms 
swept  down  from  the  Cordillera  one  after  another. 
The  delay  was  annoying  both  to  us  and  to  ''the  force,'' 
for  they  were  anxious  to  get  away  to  another  duty 
that  awaited  them.  It  appears  that  an  Indian  vil- 
lage on  the  Puna,  not  far  from  the  town  of  Pucarani, 
was  in  a  state  of  anarchy.     It  was  divided  into  two 

280 


ASCENT    OF    PEf^AS   HILL 

parties,  quarrelling  with  one  another;  and  there  had 
been  fights  of  a  murderous  kind.  The  corregidor 
was  powerless,  and  had  been  forced  to  send  to  La  Paz 
for  assistance.  I  asked  the  officer  what  he  would 
have  to  do.  He  said  that  such  Indian  troubles  were 
always  arising.  As  a  rule  it  sufficed  to  call  the  peo- 
ple together,  and  discuss  the  matter  with  them;  after 
a  long  palaver,  they  generally  settled  down  peaceful- 
ly enough.  ''But,''  he  said,  "sometimes  they  resist, 
and  then,  of  course,  it  comes  to  shooting.''  I  could 
see  that  the  job  was  distasteful  to  him,  and  that  he' 
was  anxious  to  acquit  himself  well  in  the  matter.  When 
I  met  him  afterwards,  in  La  Paz,  he  told  me  how  the 
thing  had  gone.  He  said  that  the  village  was  assembled, 
and  that  he  harangued  them,  and  the  corregidor  ha- 
rangued them,  and  that  they  had  a  great  deal  to  say 
for  themselves  on  both  sides,  but  that  ultimately  they 
forgave  one  another  and  promised  to  live  thencefor- 
ward ''like  brothers,"  whereupon  he  took  his  departure 
with  joy  and  gladness.  The  Indians  of  Bolivia  are  a 
noteworthy  proof  of  how  much  can  be  accomplished 
by  management,  and  how  seldom  actual  force  is  es- 
sential to  the  maintenance  of  peace. 

The  only  hope  of  completing  my  observations  in 
the  unsettled  weather  that  now  obtained  was  to  gain 
the  summit  of  Pefias  Hill  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the 
morning.  Accordingly,  we  started  forth  in  the  night 
and  wound  our  way  upward,  first  over  fields,  and  then 
across  a  slope  difficult  for  mules.  If  we  had  known 
better,  we  should  have  gone  straight  to  the  crest  of 
the  ridge  and  followed  that  along  the  well-made  path 
by  which  we  descended.     As  it  was,  we  had  to  find 

281 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

a  way  across  a  series  of  difficult  guUeys.  Dawn  showed 
the  plain  buried  beneath  a  sheet  of  white  fog,  but,  as 
the  sun  rose,  lUimani  stood  clearly  up  against  a  lemon 
sky.  The  rest  of  the  Cordillera  was  hidden  from  view 
by  the  mass  of  the  hill  we  were  climbing.  After  scram- 
bling along  with  much  difficulty,  and  being  compelled 
to  lose  half  the  height  we  had  gained,  an  excellent 
path  was  struck,  and  proved  to  be  the  direct  track  over 
the  hill  from  Pefias  to  the  Puna.  Following  this,  we 
reached  the  final  ridge,  and  were  astonished  at  what 
we  there  discovered. 

Instead  of  being  a  mere  abandoned  hill-top,  such 
as  hill-tops  generally  are,  with  hardly  a  trace  of  man, 
it  bore  signs  of  much  human  activity.  There  were 
tracks  in  all  directions,  bordered  by  countless  numbers 
of  the  little  model  dolmens  I  have  previously  referred 
to,  and  by  some  few  of  a  considerable  size,  two  feet 
high  or  thereabouts.  These  paths  converged  from 
all  directions  on  a  large  chapel,  now  disroofed.  The 
altar  was  placed  against  a  wall  of  native  rock,  in  which, 
about  thirty  feet  above  the  floor,  was  a  natural  hollow 
or  small  cave.  The  mouth  of  this  cave  was  decorated 
with  a  withered  wreath,  and  there  was  an  artificial 
star  within  it.  On  the  floor  of  the  chapel  were  some 
seven-branched  candlesticks,  and  numbers  of  withered 
flowers  and  small  offerings.  Before  entering  the  en- 
closure the  soldiers  took  their  hats  off,  evidently  re- 
garding it  as  a  sacred  place.  Numbers  of  small  birds 
were  flying  about.  There  were  also  two  or  three  huts 
close  by,  well  roofed  and  securely  locked  up.  Evi- 
dently this  is  a  place  of  pilgrimage,  sought  not  merely 
from  Pefias  town,  but  from  all    the   country  round, 

282 


unW 


oF 


ASCENT    OF    PENAS   HILL 

and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Christian  chapel 
on  the  top  occupied  the  site  of  some  religious  edifice 
of  ''the  times  of  the  Gentiles/' 

It  is  not  so  much  the  situation  of  the  hill  that  attracted 
superstitious  attention  to  it,  but  the  strangely  shaped 
rocks  (Pefias  means  peaks),  weathered  masses  of  con- 
glomerate, which  stand  out  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge 
and  seem  to  cluster  themselves  together  where  the  chapel 
is  built.  In  fact,  the  chapel  may  best  be  described  as  sur- 
rounded by  these  strangely  shaped  masses.  Some  of 
them  are  mere  cubical  lumps,  others  are  like  balloons  on 
a  narrow  stem,  others  again  mimic  the  shape  of  birds  and 
beasts.  On  beholding  them  I  was  reminded  of  the  holy 
rocks  of  Alvernia,  with  their  huge  clefts  and  openings 
(fabled  to  have  been  miraculously  split  up  at  the  hour 
of  Christ's  crucifixion),  at  which  St.  Francis  of  Assisi 
wondered,  and  where  he  saw  the  vision  of  the  seraph 
and  received  the  stigmata.  At  the  moment  of  arrival 
on  the  top  there  was  no  time  for  examining  this  curious 
high  place,  for  clouds  were  gathering  behind  the  Cor- 
dillera, and  a  series  of  observations  had  to  be  made 
with  all  possible  speed.  By  good  fortune  the  angles 
of  the  last  endangered  peak  had  been  observed  just  a 
moment  before  the  cloud  came  down  upon  it  and  finally 
blotted  out  the  whole  range. 

The  descent  was  made  by  a  pilgrimage-track  along 
the  crest  of  the  ridge,  in  and  out  among  the  conglom- 
erate teeth  and  over  a  succession  of  hill-tops.  From 
the  last  an  easy  slope  led  down  to  the  finca.  Pellissier, 
who  did  not  make  the  ascent  with  us  on  account  of 
illness,  felt  himself  a  little  better  and  was  eager  to  hasten 
to  La  Paz  and  see  a  doctor;  so,  at  noon,  after  a  hasty 

283 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

lunch,  the  baggage  was  packed  on  the  mules  and  we 
prepared  to  set  forth.  The  soldiers  were  drawn  up  to 
bid  us  good-bye.  They  said :  ''  We  are  good  soldiers, 
aren't  we?  Tell  us  what  you  think  of  us."  I  told 
them  my  opinion  in  the  clinking  silver  tongue  which 
all  the  world  understands.  As  we  set  forth  on  our 
diverging  ways,  I  heard  the  officer  say  to  one  of  the 
men :  "  Well,  we've  got  through  that  job  all  right.  I 
hope  we  shall  get  as  well  through  the  next.'' 

There  was  now  before  us  the  tedious  Puna  once  more 
to  be  crossed.  We  made  a  great  vow  that  we  would  reach 
La  Paz  that  night  by  the  Patamanta  road.  Hurrying 
on  we  passed  again  through  the  fields  of  the  Santa 
Ana  finca,  which  were  being  ploughed  by  bulls  gayly 
decorated  with  flags  and  ribbons.  As  night  approach- 
ed we  were  abreast  of  the  little  Cucuta  tamho,  where 
the  arriero  stopped  with  the  tired  baggage-mules.  But 
we  rode  on  in  the  moonlight  over  the  rolling  desert 
ground,  by  a  path  that  rose  and  fell,  crossing  a  se- 
ries of  transverse  undulating  hills  and  valleys.  Four 
leagues  before  the  Alto  a  polite  Bolivian  was  overtaken, 
driving  three  laden  mules ;  he  joined  himself  to  us,  and 
we  went  on  together  in  silence.  The  undulations  be- 
came deeper  than  before,  and  we  gradually  stretched 
out  into  a  long  line  about  shouting  distance  from  one 
another.  Each  crest,  as  it  loomed  ahead,  seemed  as 
though  it  were  the  last.  I  kept  imagining  that  I  dis- 
tinguished the  tower  which  marks  the  point  where  the 
road  dips  down  over  the  Alto ;  but  each  feigned  pilastron, 
as  it  was  approached,  proved  only  to  be  some  small  rock 
or  heap  of  stones.  Thunder-storms  were  flashing  in 
several  remote  quarters  of  the  horizon,  but  between 

284 


SHRINE    ON    PESAS    HILL 


HUT    NEAR    THE    TOP    OF    PE5JAS    HILL 


ASCENT    OF    PENAS    HILL 

them  was  a  sky  utterly  serene.  When  the  last  daylight 
had  faded  away  the  cold  became  intense,  and  the  con- 
trast of  temperature  after  the  broiling  afternoon  was 
keenly  felt.  My  legs  ached  from  the  long  jog-trot  ride; 
my  feet  fairly  froze;  the  hours  passed  painfully  and 
slowly. 

At  last  a  final  roll  of  the  land  displayed  the  Alto 
close  ahead.  It  is  a  known  robbers'  rendezvous.  Our 
Bolivian  companion  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind. 
He  had  been  joined  by  an  Indian  on  foot,  but  the  Indian 
had  now  dropped  back.  As  I  approached  the  pillar, 
where  the  road  enters  a  short,  deep  cutting,  worn  by 
ages  of  travellers,  I  perceived  a  compact  body  of  ap- 
proaching Indians.  Generally  the  Indians  you  pass 
on  the  road  are  bearing  burdens  or  driving  donkeys. 
To  see  a  dozen  in  company,  unemployed  and  apparently 
roving  about,  each  armed  with  a  stick,  is  an  unusual 
thing.  The  guides  coming  up,  we  rode  through  them, 
while  they  halted  and  watched  us  in  an  unfriendly 
manner.  I  thought  no  more  about  them,  and  on  reach- 
ing the  edge  of  the  cliff  dismounted  to  promote  circula- 
tion by  walking.  Down  the  zigzag  we  went  as  fast  as 
we  could,  for  a  thunder-storm  was  now  coming  nearer, 
and  my  one  desire  was  to  gain  the  inn  before  rain  burst 
upon  us.  We  just  succeeded.  Early  next  morning  the 
arriero  arrived  with  our  baggage  and  the  news  that  he 
had  seen  the  body  of  a  murdered  Indian  at  the  Alto; 
that  the  police  had  gone  up  in  pursuit  of  the  criminals, 
and  that  the  murderers  were  the  group  of  men  we  had 
encountered,  a  gang  who  prey  upon  such  solitary  and 
defenceless  travellers  as  they  may  chance  to  meet.  An 
hour  or  two  later  a  mule  was  led  through  the  town,  with 

285 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

the  body  of  the  murdered  man  lying  across  its  back, 
a  shocking  sight.  He  proved  to  be  a  native  of  that 
same  village  of  Abichaca  whose  Indians  had  given  me 
so  much  trouble. 

The  remainder  of  my  survey  could  be  completed 
from  the  edge  of  the  Puna  in  the  neighborhood  of  La 
Paz,  so  that  it  was  only  necessary  for  us  to  ride  out  in 
the  morning  and  back  in  the  afternoon.  In  this  fashion 
we  worked  all  along  the  Alto  around  the  margin  of  the 
Achocalla  Valley.  One  of  these  days  was  the  eve  of 
All  Saints'  Day,  pre-eminent  among  the  ever-recurring 
f^es  of  Bolivia,  for  it  is  observed  almost  universally. 
For  three  days  work  ceases,  not  only  in  the  country,  but 
in  La  Paz  also.  As  we  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  Alto 
it  was  a  wonderful  sight  to  see  the  multitude  of  Indians, 
in  their  bright-colored  ponchos,  streaming  out  of  the 
town,  climbing  the  steep  face  of  the  Alto  like  so  many 
bright -colored  beetles,  and  then  threading  their  way 
over  the  Puna  in  all  directions  towards  their  scattered 
villages.  Each  man  was  driving  his  donkey  or  carry- 
ing his  burden,  and  all  alike  had  been  attending  the 
market  at  La  Paz  and  buying  supplies  for  the  fete.  The 
market,  of  course,  had  been  unusually  animated  dur- 
ing the  preceding  days.  It  was  always  a  wonderful 
sight,  especially  on  Sundays,  the  blaze  of  moving  color 
being  its  main  characteristic. 

On  one  of  the  fete  days  in  La  Paz  the  Alameda  was 
given  up  in  the  afternoon  to  a  promenade  of  cholas, 
the  women  turning  out  in  their  brilliantly  new  attire, 
their  short  skirts  made  of  bright  plush  or  other  heavy- 
textured  material,  with  a  great  quantity  of  lace  pet- 
ticoat displayed  beneath  it.    They  are  ugly  women 

286 


ASCENT   OF    PEHAS    HILL 

almost  without  exception,  and  their  costumes  by  no 
means  add  to  their  attractiveness,  but  the  mass  of  color 
thus  brought  together  in  the  bright  sunshine  and  among 
the  trees  was  undoubtedly  striking  and  even  beautiful. 
A  herd  of  children  were  rushing  up  and  down  with 
loud  shouts,  dragging  a  stuffed  lion  around  the  place. 
The  usual  peaceful  inhabitants  of  the  Alameda,  a  tame 
emu  and  vicuna,  were  much  disturbed  by  the  noise 
and  the  coming  and  going  of  people.  In  the  middle 
of  the  promenade  is  a  small  pond  about  fifteen  yards 
long,  whereon  are  kept  some  ducks  from  Lake  Titicaca ; 
they  share  the  pool  with  a  rather  large,  flat-bottomed 
boat,  which  on  this  f^te  day  was  in  continual  occupa- 
tion. Though  there  was  not  room  enough  to  row  it, 
it  was  pushed  about  from  one  bank  to  the  other,  ap- 
parently to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  occupants. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  fete  every  one  goes  out  to  the 
cemetery,  carrying  wreaths  to  deposit  on  the  tombs. 
The  better  class  of  ladies  all  wrap  themselves  up  in 
their  black  manteaux,  but  the  cholas  could  not  have 
too  many  opportunities  of  displaying  their  new  bright- 
colored  dresses.  These  cemetery  visits  are  the  oc- 
casion, later  on  in  the  day,  of  much  intoxication  among 
the  lower  orders.  Indeed,  there  is  hardly  any  ceremony, 
either  civil  or  religious,  which  the  common  people  do 
not  make  an  opportunity  of  drinking;  and  whenever 
they  drink  they  drink  too  much.  It  is  this  habit,  no 
doubt,  that  accounts  for  the  multitude  of  small  liquor- 
shops  where  chicha  and  the  cheap  native  spirits  are 
retailed. 

Chicha,  which  may  be  described  as  a  kind  of  beer,  made 
in  many  varieties  out  of  maize  and  other  substances, 

287 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

is  not  a  bad  drink.  In  some  parts  of  the  country  it  is 
very  much  better  made  than  in  others ;  a  true  Bolivian 
will  tell  in  a  moment  in  what  manner  any  chicha  offered 
to  him  may  be  made.  Chicha  does  not  last  very  long, 
and  has  to  be  drunk  within  a  few  days  of  the  brewing. 
It  is  a  drink  that  comes  down  from  prehistoric  days,  and 
is  still  made  in  the  manner  in  which  it  was  made  in 
the  time  of  the  Incas.  Civilization,  however,  has  not 
failed  to  introduce  beer  into  this  remote  centre.  Not 
so  long  ago  all  the  beer  there  was  had  to  be  imported 
at  great  cost  from  far  away.  Now,  however,  there  are 
two,  if  not  three,  breweries  in  La  Paz,  which  brew  an 
excellent  German  beer  and  are  driving  a  great  trade. 
In  fact,  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  supply  the  actual 
demand.  Many  and  many  a  time  we  hurried  forward 
on  the  Puna  to  one  of  the  post-houses,  hoping  to  slake 
our  thirst  with  a  draught  of  good  La  Paz  beer,  only  to 
find  that  the  stock  was  exhausted,  and  that,  though 
reinforcement  had  been  sent  for  perhaps  a  week  or  two 
before,  the  brewery  had  not  yet  been  able  to  supply  it. 

On  one  of  the  mornings  I  spent  in  the  town — a  Sunday 
morning,  I  think  it  was — word  went  round  that  an  Indian 
murderer  was  going  to  be  executed  on  the  open  drill- 
ground  in  front  of  the  prison.  The  crime  of  which  the 
man  had  been  convicted  was  no  less  than  compassing 
the  death  of  his  wife  and  family  of  children.  Not  ap- 
parently having  the  courage  to  kill  them  himself,  he 
hired  a  couple  of  bravos  to  do  the  work.  All  three  had 
been  arrested  and  found  guilty.  This  day  the  principal 
was  to  pay  the  penalty  with  his  life.  The  whole  city 
turned  out  on  the  great  square,  near  the  prison,  to  see 
the  execution.     Military  bands  playing  sad  music  con- 

288 


ASCENT   OF    PENAS   HILL 

centrated  on  the  square,  and  a  considerable  body  of 
troops  were  drawn  up  to  keep  order,  after  they  had 
been  employed  skirmishing  about  the  town  to  collect 
together  a  number  of  Indians  to  witness  the  execution. 
The  Indians  were  driven  on  to  the  parade  and  drawn 
up  immediately  in  front  of  the  place  of  execution,  where 
they  sat  down  on  the  ground,  with  the  soldiers  surround- 
ing them  outside  and  the  general  public  farther  out. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  with  a  clear  sky,  and  the 
brilliancy  of  the  sun  shining  on  this  field  of  ponchoed 
natives  made  them  look  from  the  far  distance  like  a 
bed  of  flowers.  Punctually  at  the  hour  appointed  the 
prison  doors  opened  and  the  three  men  were  brought 
out  and  placed  some  distance  from  one  another  in  a 
row,  the  principal  malefactor,  the  only  one  who  was 
to  be  executed,  being  in  the  centre.  He  marched  forth, 
utterly  unconcerned,  and  took  his  place  without  the 
smallest  sign  of  fear;  but  the  other  two,  whose  hour 
had  not  yet  come,  were  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse 
from  terror.  There  was  something  in  the  brave  bearing 
of  the  murderer  that  won  for  him  the  respect  of  the  crowd. 
He  was  allowed  to  stand  forth  and  make  a  speech,  in 
which  I  am  told  he  expressed  himself  quite  satisfied 
with  what  he  had  done.  ''The  woman,"  he  said, 
"merited  the  death  brought  upon  her,  and  so  did  the 
children.''  He  in  nowise  regretted  the  action  he  had 
taken.  When  he  had  finished  he  took  his  place  on 
a  sort  of  little  stool  with  a  post  for  a  back,  while  great 
cries  and  shrieks  arose  from  the  assembled  Indians. 
The  firing  party  did  their  work  without  delay,  and  the 
culprit  was  killed  instantaneously,  among  the  lamen- 
tations of  the  people  of  his  race.  The  body  was  left 
T  289 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

for  many  hours  where  it  fell,  and  the  Indians  were 
encouraged  to  go  forward  and  inspect  it,  the  object  of 
the  whole  ghastly  performance  being  to  strike  terror 
into  them.  Thereupon  the  other  two  men  were  removed 
back  into  the  prison,  one  of  them  to  be  brought  forth 
and  shot  a  month  later  I  was  told,  the  other,  a  young 
man,  to  spend  his  life  in  penal  servitude.  According  to 
a  report  which  reached  me,  whether  well  grounded  or 
not  I  cannot  say,  there  were  at  that  time  within  the 
prison  walls  over  two  hundred  convicted  Indian  mur- 
derers, but  capital  punishment  is  seldom  enforced  except 
in  the  case  of  parricides  and  murderers  of  a  particular- 
ly atrocious  kind. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
TIN -MINES    OF    HUAINA    POTOSI 

BEFORE  starting  to  visit  the  volcanic  ranges  to  the 
west  and  south,  I  made  yet  one  more  expedition 
to  the  Puna  and  towards  the  Cordillera,  my  ob- 
ject being  to  inspect  a  great  vein  of  tin  which  had  re- 
cently begun  to  be  worked.  It  is  situated  on  the  very 
flanks  of  that  fine  Mount  Cacaaca*  whose  glorious 
pyramid  had  so  often  attracted  our  gaze  while  trav- 
ersing the  plateau  or  standing  on  the  stimmits  of  the 
Puna  hills.  Bolivia  is  one  of  the  few  countries  in  the 
world  that  are  rich  in  tin.  No  tin-mines  are  known  to 
exist  in  the  Western  or  Coast  Cordillera,  and  I  believe 
no  tin  has  been  discovered  either  in  Peru  or  Chile.  It 
is  only  along  the  flank  of  the  Cordillera  Real  and  its 
prolongation  to  the  south  that  tin -mines  have  been 
opened.  Stream  tin  has  been  found  by  gold  pros- 
pectors in  one  or  two  of  the  eastern  valleys,  Tipuani 
for  instance;  but  known  veins  are  all  along  the  west- 
em  side  of  the  range,  near  the  junction  of  the  Silurian 
formation  with  the  intruded  igneous  rocks.  Some  of 
the  best  tin  lodes  are  said  to  occur  in  the  porphyry 

*  The  name  Caca-aca  means  "  by  broken  rocks.'*  The  altitude  of 
this  peak,  according  to  my  measurement,  is  20,560  feet.  Other  meas- 
urements are:  Minchin,  20,170  feet;  Reck,  20,292  feet;  Pentland, 
20,650  feet ;  Pinis,  19,961  feet ;  mean,  20,250  feet. 

291 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

or  altered  andesite,  but  in  a  few  places  lodes  run 
through  slate  and  trachyte.  According  to  Mr.  C.  C. 
Pasley/"  the  veins  in  the  porphyry  are  generally  the 
richest  and  of  better  quality,  the  other  being  mixed  with 
antimony,  iron,  and  copper  pyrites,  zinc  blende,  and 
sometimes  with  bismuth  and  wolfram.  The  tin  usually 
contains  traces  of  silver,  and  the  lodes  frequently  have 
a  capping  of  iron.  The  chief  tin-producing  districts 
are  four:  Oruro  in  the  centre.  La  Paz  in  the  north, 
Chorolque  in  the  south,  and  Potosi  farther  to  the  east- 
ward. The  most  important  of  these  districts  is  Oruro. 
Tin  is  also  found  in  the  Quimsa  Cruz  Mountain. 

My  visit  to  the  mines  was  made  in  company  with 
my  friend  Mr.  M.  Martindale,  an  English  engineer 
who  had  lived  for  many  years  in  South  America,  and 
was  familiar  with  the  mines  of  many  of  its  countries. 
Leaving  La  Paz  early  one  morning,  we  rode  straight 
up  the  main  valley,  instead  of  turning  sharply  to  the 
left  and  climbing  to  the  Alto  of  Lima,  as  I  had  always 
hitherto  done  on  my  Puna  expeditions.  We  noticed 
that  the  La  Paz  River  was  much  fuller  of  water  than  it 
had  been,  for  the  frequent  snow-storms  upon  the  moun- 
tains and  the  thunder-storms  lower  down,  forerunners  of 
the  rainy  season,  were  beginning  to  produce  an  effect. 
There  were  blossoming  apple-trees  in  the  cottage  gar- 
dens, and  many  cactuses  bearing  bright  flowers  by  the 
side  of  the  mule-path.  In  fact,  the  spring,  which  we  had 
found  two  months  before  at  Cotana,  had  now  climbed 
even  beyond  La  Paz.  In  two  or  three  hours  we  had 
passed  round  the  bend  of  the  valley,  and  lost  sight  of 

*  "The  Tin-Mines  of  Bolivia,"  a  paper  read  before  the  Institution 
of  Mining  and  Metallurgy,  December  21,  1898. 

292 


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i^B^F  J^BK  ^v'  >a\    '  o 

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TIN-MINES    OF   HUAINA   POTOSI 

the  town  and  almost  all  traces  of  habitation.  A  steep 
rise,  which  took  us  near  two  or  three  pools  of  water, 
finally  landed  us  on  the  Puna,  perhaps  five  miles  to 
the  north  of  the  point  where  we  usually  struck  it.  Our 
position  might  be  better  described  as  on  the  lowest 
slopes  of  the  Cordillera  rather  than  on  the  Puna  at  all, 
though  the  slopes  here  sink  down  to  the  plain  with  so 
gradual  a  slope  that  the  transition  from  slope  to  plain 
can  scarcely  be  marked. 

Thus  far  the  weather  had  been  cloudy,  and  the  view 
restricted,  but  now  the  sim  burst  forth  and  the  sky 
was  blue  among  dissolving  clouds.  The  distant  plain 
was  smoking  with  dust  whirlpools  like  the  smoke  of 
bonfires.  We  soon  came  on  the  traces  of  old  moraines. 
Continuing  our  northward  way,  over  a  rounded  hog's- 
back,  and  circling  somewhat  about  the  end  of  a  great 
outlier  of  the  main  Cordillera,  we  entered  a  surprisingly 
large  valley  that  penetrates  to  the  crest  of  the  Cordillera 
and  gives  access  to  an  important  mule-pass  leading 
over  to  Zongo.  Mount  Cacaaca,  glorious  with  its  wide- 
spreading  base  and  bladed  icy  tower,  was  revealed  in 
all  its  splendor  standing  north  of  the  pass,  while  to 
our  right  hand  were  cliifs  and  ridges  of  purple  rock 
forming  part  of  the  next  snow-mountain  to  the  south. 
Following  the  left  bank  of  the  valley  and  gradually 
descending  towards  the  stream  and  lake  at  the  head  of 
it,  we  came  presently  on  the  buildings  and  workings 
of  the  Milium  Mine,  situated  15,100  feet  above  sea- 
level. 

At  present  the  mine  is  only  being  worked  on  a  small 
scale,  and  the  buildings  are  of  a  simple  character. 
The  engineer's  house  had  been  placed  at  our  disposal 

293 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

by  Sefior  Farf an,  the  owner,  who  lived  in  La  Paz ;  but, 
agreeable  as  it  was  to  have  a  roof  over  our  heads  when 
the  bleak  night  came  on,  we  could  have  wished  that  the 
room  had  been  less  draughty,  or  the  gale  of  wind  that 
arose  at  sunset  less  severe.  The  people  told  us  that 
such  a  gale  springs  up  daily,  and  is  one  of  the  chief 
annoyances  to  their  life  in  this  dreary  solitude.  Clouds 
were  trying  to  pour  over  the  pass  from  Zongo,  but 
they  faded  away  on  the  col.  For  a  brief  moment  the 
sunset  coloring  played  upon  Mount  Cacaaca  so  that 
it  shone  like  a  spear-tip  newly  withdrawn  from  the 
furnace,  but  the  ice-slopes  grew  steel-gray  as  the  pallid 
night  came  swiftly  on. 

Some  hours  of  the  next  morning  were  devoted  to 
an  inspection  of  the  mine,  which  is  tentatively  worked 
at  several  different  levels  by  tunnels  running  into  the 
mountain.  I  am  informed  that,  since  my  visit  in  1898, 
great  developments  have  been  accomplished,  and  that 
I  should  hardly  recognize  the  works  in  their  present 
condition.  The  property  has  passed  into  the  hands 
of  a  wealthy  French  syndicate.  Standing  at  the  foot 
of  one  of  the  tunnels  and  gazing  abroad  over  the 
valley,  it  was  plain  to  see  how  great  a  glacial  exten- 
sion there  had  formerly  been  in  this  place.  Now  the 
actual  crest  of  the  range  can  be  reached  at  the  col 
without  touching  glaciers  at  all;  only  a  few  snow- 
beds  have  to  be  crossed.  Of  course,  Cacaaca,  and 
the  peak  opposite  to  it,  are  draped  with  beautiful 
glaciers,  but  the  ice  does  not  descend  to  the  bottom 
of  the  principal  valley.  Once  it  filled  that  valley 
and  stretched  down  towards  the  Puna,  a  distance  of 
several  miles.     On  its  retreat  it  left  exposed  a  series 

294 


OF  THE     "*^ 

^'^'VERSITY 

OF 


TIN-MINES   OF   HUAINA   POTOSI 

of  lake  basins,  since  filled  up,  with  the  exception  of 
the  two  highest.  The  tin  lode,  averaging  about  five 
yards  in  thickness,  comes  to  the  surface,  and  can  be 
traced  right  up  the  hill-side,  running  approximately 
in  a  northwest-southeast  direction,  and  at  a  very  high 
angle  of  dip.  It  almost  looks  as  though  some  mighty 
power,  wielding  a  gigantic  sword,  had  cloven  the  hill 
and  filled  the  gap  it  left  with  this  great  lode.  There 
are  also  several  other  parallel  lodes.  The  ore  is  in 
some  places  very  rich  indeed,  while  in  other  places  the 
tin  contains  a  large  admixture  of  antimony. 

Later  on  in  the  day  we  rode  off  to  cross  the  main 
southwestward  buttress  ridge  of  Mount  Cacaaca  by  a 
pass  17,100  feet  in  height.  Descending  to  the  bottom 
of  Milluni  Valley,  and  traversing  a  wide  swamp,  we 
gained  the  foot  of  the  opposite  slope,  and  mounted  it 
by  a  faintly  marked  track,  which  leads  over  shales 
and  grits  to  a  desolate  rounded  region  of  debris,  among 
which  the  pass  is  situated.  The  ridge  rising  thence 
towards  Mount  Cacaaca,  soon  becomes  sharp  and  bold 
in  form,  breaking  into  needles  of  rock  and  ice  aretes 
of  exceeding  narrowness.  It  leads  to  a  minor  summit, 
beyond  which  comes  a  deep-lying  saddle  of  ice,  and 
then  a  long  and  most  difficult  arete,  with  a  precipice  on 
either  hand  rising  to  the  summit  of  the  peak.  By 
this  route  it  was  plain  that  no  ascent  could  be  made, 
nor,  I  think,  will  the  mountain  be  climbed  from  the 
east  or  directly  from  the  Zongo  Pass.  On  all  sides 
that  I  saw.  Mount  Cacaaca  presents  quite  unusual 
difficulties  to  a  climber,  but  I  am  told  that  on  the  other 
side  of  the  range  there  is  a  slope  by  which  the  moun- 
tain might  be  attacked  with  some  chance  of  success. 

295 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

When  standing  on  the  col,  and  facing  towards  the  snowy- 
peak,  there  was  behind  us  a  radiating  group  of  rounded 
hills  spreading  widely  and  sloping  steadily  towards 
the  Puna.  To  this  mass  properly  belongs  the  name 
Huaina  Potosi,  by  which  Cacaaca  is  now  popularly 
known.  Silver  having  been  found  hereabouts,  hope 
arose  in  the  minds  of  the  finders  that  great  wealth 
would  ensue.  They  therefore  named  the  hill  (but  not 
the  snowy  peak)  after  the  famous  Potosi,  calling  it 
Huaina,  which  means  ''younger.''  As  far  as  silver  is 
concerned,  the  hill  has  not  justified  its  name. 

Instead  of  descending  at  once  to  the  valley,  I  wandered 
round  along  the  crest  of  the  hill  outwards  to  a  stone 
man,  which  commanded  a  very  magnificent  view  alike 
over  the  plain  and  towards  the  mountain.  Hence 
one  could  look  into  the  next  deep  valley  that  leads  to 
the  southwestern  foot  of  Cacaaca,  where  a  beautiful 
glacier,  broken  into  blue  ice-falls  and  backed  by  splendid 
ice -slopes  and  precipices,  empties  its  waters  into  an 
emerald  green  tarn.  And  now  we  could  see,  nearer 
at  hand  than  I  had  yet  beheld  them,  the  continuation 
of  the  main  ridge  to  the  north,  where  the  mountains 
are  for  a  certain  distance  more  splintered  and  needle- 
like than  at  any  other  part  of  the  Cordillera.  The  fine 
peak,  named  Condoriri  (19,950  ^^^t  according  to  my 
measurement),  marks  the  neighborhood  of  another  im- 
portant pass  that  likewise  leads  to  Zongo.  From  this 
peak  several  lofty  and  broken  buttress  ranges  stretch- 
ing towards  the  Puna  hid  the  further  view  along 
the  range  in  the  direction  of  Mount  Sorata.  Farther 
around  came  the  distant  Lake  Titicaca  glittering  in  the 
sunshine,  and  then  the  broad  plateau,  always  impres- 

296 


TIN-MINES   OF   HUAINA   POTOSI 

sive  as  a  contrast  with  the  rugged  peaks.  On  the  very 
crest  of  the  Huaina  Potosi  Hill  was  a  huge  block  of 
granite,  which  must  have  been  brought  there  by  ice 
from  Mount  Cacaaca,  a  great  part  of  whose  mass  con- 
sists of  granite.  At  that  time  the  deep  valley  which  now 
lies  between  the  point  where  the  bowlder  stands  and 
the  mountain  itself  must  have  been  entirely  filled  with 
ice,  an  accumulation  which  would  have  involved  a  flow 
of  many  miles  in  length  before  it  could  have  melted 
away,  for  the  bowlder  stands  at  least  17,500  feet  above 
the  sea,  while  the  intervening  valley  bottom  is  less 
than  15,000  feet.  There  are  plenty  of  similar  bowlders 
to  be  found  on  the  southwestern  slope  of  Huaina  Potosi, 
but  lower  down  most  of  them  are  water-worn;  those 
that  have  maintained  themselves  on  the  crest  or  upper 
part  of  the  slope  alone  retain  the  sharpness  of  their 
original  angles. 

The  tin-mine  is  situated  on  the  northern  slope  of  the 
hill,  while  the  Ingenio,  where  the  ores  are  sorted  and 
some  of  them  reduced,  was  planted  close  to  the  glacier- 
lake,  which  supplied  the  water-power  for  the  work. 
The  valley  from  this  point  down  to  the  Puna  is  of  very 
gentle  slope,  so  that  carts  can  be  drawn  right  up  to  the 
workings.  The  lode  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Milluni 
Mine,  continued  in  this  direction,  and  is  from  two  to  ten 
metres  wide,  and  very  rich  in  tin.  There  is  almost 
an  exhaustless  quantity  of  it,  so  that  when  the  ma- 
chinery, which  we  were  informed  was  on  its  way,  is 
installed,  no  doubt  very  good  results  will  be  yielded.'" 
The  same  engineer  manages  both  this  and  the  Milluni 

*  I  hear  that  this  was  accomplished  in  1900,  and  that  work  on  a 
large  scale  has  begun. 

297, 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Mine.  He  rides  over  the  intervening  17,000-foot  pass 
twice  a  week  or  of tener,  and  thinks  nothing  of  it.  He 
had  been  down  to  La  Paz,  and  now  arrived  in  company 
with  a  Belgian  friend,  so  that  we  formed  a  pleasant 
party  in  a  far  more  comfortable  house  than  that  we 
had  occupied  the  previous  night.  Its  situation  at 
the  foot  of  the  splendid  cliffs  of  Cacaaca,  and  near  the 
lake  in  whose  waters  that  mountain  is  reflected,  is 
one  of  the  most  wildly  beautiful  that  we  saw  in  Bolivia. 

We  sat  on  late  after  the  evening  meal,  talking  of 
the  mine  and  its  prospects,  of  the  mineral  wealth  of 
this  side  of  the  Cordillera  all  along,  of  the  need  for 
prospecting,  and  the  comparatively  little  good  work 
•of  that  kind  that  had  been  done.  The  mules  in  the 
court-yard,  just  outside  the  door,  were  champing 
their  fodder  with  great  content;  they  seemed  more 
inclined  to  eat  than  to  sleep.  Maquignaz,  speaking 
from  experience,  asserted  that  properly  fed  mules 
never  sleep  for  more  than  two  minutes  at  a  time.  In 
his  own  farm  at  home,  he  said,  the  mule-stable  was 
in  close  proximity  to  his  bed.  Wake  at  what  hour  of 
the  night  he  might,  he  never  failed  to  hear  his  mules 
feeding;  they  might  stop  for  a  minute  or  two,  but 
that  was  all;  yet  when  the  morning  came  they  were 
ready  for  a  long  day's  work. 

''  How  much  food  do  you  give  them?''  I  asked. 

"The  rule  with  us,"  he  said,  "is  to  give  them  all 
they  can  eat.  They  work  at  it  from  the  moment  they 
come  into  the  stable  in  the  evening  till  the  moment 
they  start  again  the  following  morning.  So  it  goes 
on  day  after  day  and  week  after  week,  with  only 
Sundays  off." 

298 


TIN-MINES    OF   HUAINA   POTOSI 

Next  morning  we  were  taken  to  see  the  shed  where 
the  big  machinery  was  to  be  installed  when  it  came. 
At  present  they  had  only  a  thirty  horse-power  water- 
wheel,  worked  by  the  overflow  of  the  glacier-lake, 
and  much  of  the  ore  was  pounded  up  by  human  labor. 
In  this  case  the  ore,  broken  small  by  hammering, 
was  spread  out  on  a  flat  stone,  and  a  big  rounded 
bowlder  was  rocked  about  upon  it  by  means  of  a  sta- 
ging fastened  across  the  top  of  the  bowlder,  on  which  a 
man  stood,  with  legs  well  apart,  throwing  his  weight 
alternately  on  one  foot  and  the  other.  This,  no  doubt, 
is  the  ancient  native  method  of  working.  The  ores  are 
of  various  degrees  of  richness,  and  the  work-people 
(mostly  women)  who  break  them  into  small  fragments 
attain  great  skill  in  sorting  them  into  different  heaps, 
according  to  their  fineness.  Ores  of  low  grade  are 
pounded  up,  rolled,  and  washed  on  the  spot,  while 
the  richer  ores  are  packed  in  bags  and  conveyed  to  the 
coast  for  reduction.  The  engineer  said  that  the  Ind- 
ians are  skilful  in  all  mining  operations,  and  can 
easily  be  taught  new  processes.  From  the  most  an- 
cient times  mining  traditions  have  been  handed  down 
among  them,  so  that  they  approach  all  mining  proc- 
esses with  a  ready  intelligence.  The  work-people  we 
saw  engaged  came  from  the  neighboring  Puna.  Some 
merely  stay  for  two  or  three  weeks,  then  return  to 
their  agricultural  pursuits ;  others  remain  for  months, 
and  even  years,  in  continual  employment,  making 
good  wages. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
LAST   RIDE   OVER   THE   PUNA 

A  BOUT  the  hour  when  we  were  ready  to  start  away, 
L\  half  a  dozen  vicunas  appeared,  grazing  high  up 
on  the  almost  open  hill-side  opposite  to  us — a 
slope  of  the  strangely  regular  sugar-loaf  outlier  of 
Cacaaca,  whose  symmetrical,  rounded  top  forms  so  re- 
markable a  contrast  with  the  bladed  peak,  of  its  great 
neighbor.  Having  no  rifle  with  me,  I  was  unable  to 
attempt  a  stalk,  but  our  Belgian  fellow-guest  went  off 
in  great  haste,  and  began  running  up  the  hill.  He 
soon  found  that  at  this  elevation  such  activity  could 
not  long  be  maintained ;  his  trot  became  a  walk,  and 
his  walk  a  slow  crawl,  before  any  considerable  frac- 
tion of  the  distance  had  been  covered.  Without  taking 
advantage  of  the  inequalities  of  the  ground,  he  made 
straight  for  the  vicufias,  whose  attention  he  soon  at- 
tracted, whereupon  they  turned  and  fled.  This  was 
the  only  group  of  vicufias  I  ever  saw*  near  the  snow- 
line in  the  Cordillera.  On  the  Puna,  and  especially 
the  southern  part  of  it,  in  the  direction  of  Sicasica, 
we  encountered  several  close  to  the  high-road.  There 
they  allowed  us  to  approach  within  a  distance  of  three 
or  four  hundred  yards,  while  they  hardly  took  any 
notice  of  a  carriage  or  wagon  passing  along  the  road. 
Our  day's  march  led  straight  down  the  valley  along 

300 


LAST   RIDE   OVER   THE    PUNA 

the  left  bank  of  the  stream.  The  direct  trail  to  La 
Paz  lies  right  over  the  Huaina  Potosi  Hill;  by  it  we 
sent  away  the  muleteer  with  the  baggage.  My  object 
this  day  was  to  investigate  the  group  of  valleys  which 
descend  from  between  Cacaaca  and  Condoriri,  con- 
verging one  upon  another,  and  finally  issuing  on  to 
the  plain  near  the  back  of  the  Vilahaque  Hill.  The 
existence  of  these  valleys,  and  of  others  like  them  all 
along  the  range,  is  scarcely  suspected  by  the  traveller 
who  has  never  been  among  them.  The  Cordillera,  seen 
from  the  Puna,  appears  to  slope  gradually  down  from 
the  foot  of  the  snow  to  the  plain  by  a  series  of  undu- 
lating inclines,  seamed  here  and  there  by  valleys  of 
inconsiderable  dimensions,  eroded  by  mountain  tor- 
rents. 

It  is  only  on  a  closer  inspection  that  the  mag- 
nitude of  these  eroded  valleys  and  the  intricacy 
of  their  upper  extensions  are  discovered.  They  have 
a  tendency  to  throw  off,  just  below  the  snow-level, 
lateral  valleys  parallel  with  the  main  ridge.  Such 
was  the  Haukafia  Valley  on  Mount  Sorata;  such 
also  is  this  valley  at  the  back  of  Huaina  Potosi. 
We  were  desirous,  moreover,  of  finding  out  the  direction 
of  another  important  pass,  which  crosses  the  range 
south  of  Condoriri.  I  even  hoped  to  identify  the  po- 
sition of  a  considerable  lake,  marked  on  a  rough  pub- 
lished map  that  professes  to  indicate  a  possible  line 
for  a  road  leading  from  Pefias  by  a  pass  over  the 
Cordillera  to  Challana.  I  was,  however,  unable 
to  see  this  lake;  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  it  is 
a  much  smaller  sheet  of  water  than  the  road-plan 
made   it   appear.     The   road,   however,   is   doubtless 

301 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

well  designed,  and  should  be  made  at  an  early  date. 
No  important  physical  obstacles  have  to  be  overcome. 
The  Challana  Valley  is  by  nature  very  rich,  and 
would  well  repay  settlement  and  development,  but  the 
local  Indians  are  troublesome.  The  road  passing 
through  it  would  be  the  easiest  and  most  direct  route 
from  the  Bolivian  plateau  to  Puerto  Ballivian,  at  the 
junction  of  the  Huanay  and  Coroico  rivers,  the  Rio 
Huanay  being  the  stream  that  unites  the  waters  of 
the  Mapiri,  Tipuani,  and  Challana  valleys.  The 
distance  by  this  road  from  La  Paz  to  Puerto  Ballivian 
would  be  three  hundred  and  twenty-two  kilometres. 
The  united  river  below  Puerto  Ballivian  is  named  the 
Rio  Kaka.  This,  when  united  to  the  Rio  de  La  Paz, 
becomes  the  Rio  Beni. 

Riding  along  the  easy  floor  of  the  wide  and  almost 
level  valley  below  the  mine,  we  followed  the  trail  marked 
out  for  the  cart-track,  and  thus  presently  reached 
another  important  side  valley,  likewise  filled  at  its 
head  with  one  of  the  glaciers  of  the  Cacaaca  massif. 
A  couple  of  high  lakes  below  the  glacier  occupy  hol- 
lows in  the  rock,  once  covered  by  ice,  and  form  a  beau- 
tifully picturesque  foreground  for  the  mountains  be- 
hind. We  presently  approached  yet  a  third  side  val- 
ley, at  whose  mouth  are  situated  the  ruins  of  a  once 
important  Spanish  silver-mining  establishment.  Its 
corrals  are  still  found  useful  for  the  caravans  of  beasts 
of  burden  that  come  up  to  the  Huaina  Potosi  Mine. 
Formerly  the  three  side  valleys  —  that,  namely,  in 
which  the  mine  is  now  placed;  the  second,  which  has 
lakes  in  it;  and  the  third,  opening  on  the  mine  ruins 
— discharged  themselves  directly  and  independently 

302 


LAST   RIDE    OVER   THE    PUNA 

down  the  main  slope  of  the  Cordillera  to  the  plain. 
But  the  two  former  have  been  beheaded,  and  their 
waters  turned  into  the  third  by  means  of  this  side  val- 
ley, down  which  we  had  come,  for  it  has  eaten  its  way 
back  across  them  one  after  the  other.  The  traces  of 
their  older  beds  may  still  be  observed  on  the  lower 
main  slopes. 

Thus  far  Condoriri  had  been  a  fine  sight,  with  its 
splendid  precipices  and  bold  summits.  Indeed,  seen 
close  at  hand,  it  fully  rivals  Cacaaca  in  beauty,  though 
not  quite  equalling  it  in  altitude.  The  southern  face 
is  in  part  too  precipitous  for  snow  to  rest  upon,  so  that 
the  glaciers  below  are  not  now  of  great  dimensions. 
Formerly,  however,  they  reached  far  down  towards 
the  plain.  The  ice-worn  valley,  with  its  glacier-lake, 
once  the  bed  of  this  great  ice-river,  joins,  below  the 
Indian  village  of  Tuni,  that  down  which  we  descend- 
ed. At  present  these  valleys  are  sparsely  peopled; 
once  they  must  have  supported  a  larger  population, 
for  many  ruined  huts  and  signs  of  abandoned  culti- 
vation lie  scattered  about.  Below  Tuni  the  snow- 
mountains  are  gradually  hidden  from  view  by  their 
own  shoulders,  and  the  deep  valley  becomes  barren 
and  desolate  past  description.  It  winds  gently  down 
between  bare  slopes,  with  a  stony  and  sometimes 
boggy  floor,  including  a  wide  stream-bed,  which  in 
the  rainy  season  is  filled  from  side  to  side  by  a  torrent, 
but  was  now  a  mere  waste  of  water-worn  stones.  For 
eight  or  ten  miles  we  rode  down  this  depressing  hollow, 
with  the  clouds  gathering  heavier  and  heavier  over- 
head, till  rain  pattered  about  us. 

I  insisted  upon  continuing  the  direct  descent,  being 

303 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

determined  to  discover  which  of  the  streams,  known 
to  us  on  the  Puna,  was  the  one  that  derived  itself  from 
this  source.  In  the  rainy  season  it  might,  no  doubt, 
be  easy  enough  to  identify  from  the  Puna  the  places 
where  the  various  streams,  whose  beds  are  crossed  by 
the  highway,  issue  from  the  mountains ;  but  when,  as 
during  the  time  of  my  visit,  these  streams  are  almost 
without  exception  dried  up,  it  is  impossible  to  trace 
their  beds  far  back.  Even  from  commanding  positions 
like  the  summit  of  Pefias  and  Vilahaque  hills,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  be  certain  of  the  course  followed  by  the  streams 
down  the  plain.  Coming  at  last  to  where  the  valley 
opened,  the  mystery  was  solved,  and  the  Rio  Sehuenca, 
whose  bed  crosses  the  road  just  west  of  Machaca- 
marca,  proved  to  be  the  one  derived  from  this  valley. 
This  river  empties  into  Lake  Titicaca  near  Aigachi. 
A  remarkable  feature  now  revealed  to  us  was  the 
great  artificial  and  ancient  canal,  which  here  taps 
the  stream  and  carries  off  almost  the  whole  of  the 
dry  season  supply  of  water.  This  beautifully  engi- 
neered canal  sweeps  around  the  slope  of  the  hill  and 
irrigates  the  fields  between  Vilahaque  and  Machaca- 
marca,  an  admirable  piece  of  native  work. 

Satisfied  thus  as  to  the  main  object  of  the  day's 
march,  we  mounted  the  great  brown  moorland  close 
by,  following  a  track  till  we  lost  it  among  the  grass 
tussocks  of  the  hill.  A  snow-storm  now  burst  upon 
us,  and  blotted  out  all  distant  view,  so  that  for  a  time 
we  wandered  rather  vaguely,  not  quite  knowing  the 
direction  which  should  be  taken.  In  the  interval 
of  a  brief  clearance  the  plane-table  was  set  up  and 
the  correct  bearing  of  the  Alto  de  Lima  observed,  so 

304 


LAST   RIDE    OVER    THE   PUNA 

that  thenceforward  we  were  able  to  steer  by  compass 
in  whatever  fogs  or  storms  might  overtake  us.  A 
wide  prospect  of  apparently  featureless  slope  stretched 
ahead,  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  route  should  prac- 
tically be  level.  But  appearances  were  deceptive; 
the  slope,  far  from  being  continuous,  was  seamed 
by  an  almost  countless  number  of  ravines,  separated 
from  one  another  by  round-topped  ridges,  between 
every  pair  of  which  was  a  deep  and  often,  in  its  lower 
part,  very  steep -sided  gully.  From  gully  to  ridge 
the  ascent  might  be  two  hundred  to  three  hundred  feet. 
The  moment  you  reached  the  top  of  a  ridge  you  com- 
menced the  descent  into  a  new  gully,  the  distance 
from  crest  to  crest  being  anything  from  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  to  nearly  a  mile.  This  undulating  character 
of  the  country  is  not  visible  to  a  person  gazing  across 
the  undulations  in  the  direction  of  his  way ;  he  may  see 
signs  of  a  depression  ahead  of  him,  but  there  appears 
to  be  nothing  beyond  but  an  unbroken  slope.  This 
deceptive  appearance  is  so  constant  that,  even  after 
a  dozen  such  ribs  and  valleys  have  been  laboriously^, 
crossed,  it  still  seems  as  though  the  next  rib  should  be 
the  last.  Of  course,  such  ascents  and  descents,  con- 
tinually repeated,  are  both  fatiguing  and  monotonous,' 
and  the  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  of  this  kind  of  ground 
over  which  we  had  to  travel  before  reaching  the  Alto 
were  wearisome  alike  to  man  and  beast.  Once  or  twice 
we  came  upon  secluded  villages  hidden  in  these  valley 
bottoms,  but  they  were  small  and  wretched  centres 
of  population.  Below,  to  our  right,  a  wide,  inhabited 
area  of  the  Puna  was  always  visible ;  it  was  only  when 
we  approached  the  Alto  that  the  cultivated  land  was 
u  305 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

left  behind,  and  the  last  open  mile  or  two  traversed 
almost  on  the  level  of  the  high-road.  Shortly  before 
sunset  we  dipped  over  the  edge  of  the  Alto  and  left 
the  Puna  for  the  last  time.  We  had  traversed  it  in 
one  direction  or  another  no  fewer  than  nine  times, 
and  were  heartily  sick  of  its  dreary,  bare  ex- 
panse. 

Of  course,  there  was  much  more  work  that  I  might 
have  undertaken  in  the  northern  part  of  the  Cordil- 
lera had  weather  permitted,  but  clear  days,  and  even 
clear  mornings,  were  now  so  few,  and  the  storms  of 
rain  and  snow,  blotting  out  all  views,  were  of  such 
every-day  occurrence,  that  any  hope  I  might  have 
entertained  of  being  able  profitably  to  explore  the  high 
valleys  intervening  between  Mount  Sorata  and  Con- 
doriri  had  to  be  abandoned.  A  couple  of  months 
might  well  have  been  spent  penetrating  their  fast- 
nesses and  visiting  the  different  passes  by  which 
access  may  be  obtained  to  the  other  side  of  the  range ; 
but  in  the  rainy  season  that  kind  of  work  cannot  be 
pursued,  and  the  fact  that  the  rainy  season  was  ap- 
proaching could  no  longer  be  doubted.  In  the  pre- 
vious year  the  rains  had  held  off  till  the  month  of 
January,  and  all  of  November  had  been  fine;  but  the 
penalty  was  now  being  paid  by  the  unusually  early 
on-coming  of  the  rains  this  year,  to  my  no  small  mis- 
fortune. I  still  hoped  to  devote  a  few  days  to  the  ex- 
amination of  the  volcanic  mountains  (whereof  Sajama 
is  the  highest)  on  my  southward  way,  but  I  found 
it  impossible  to  hire  mules  for  the  expedition,  for  the 
people  in  La  Paz  were  just  then  in  a  state  of  no  little 
excitement,  and  the  first  signs  were  perceptible  of  a 

306 


LAST   RIDE   OVER   THE    PUNA 

political  movement,  which  presently  culminated  in  a 
small  revolution. 

According  to  the  then  existing  constitution  of  Bo- 
livia, one  after  another  of  the  principal  towns  had  the 
right  to  take  its  turn  as  the  capital.  Sucre,  Cocha- 
bamba.  La  Paz,  and,  I  believe,  Oruro,  have  all  been 
the  capital  at  one  time  or  another.  La  Paz,  as  by  far 
the  largest  town  and  greatest  commercial  centre  in 
the  country,  not  unnaturally  felt  that  its  business 
received  less  attention  from  a  legislature  residing  in 
Sucre,  which  was  at  that  time  the  capital,  than  it 
would  receive  if  the  legislature  were  at  La  Paz  itself. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  Bolivia  is  by  no  means  a 
homogeneous  country;  it  is  formed  by  the  union  of 
provinces  differing  from  one  another  to  the  most  marked 
extent.  Some  consist  chiefly  of  tropical  forests;  oth- 
ers of  almost  Arctic  table-lands.  Some  are  agricult- 
ural ;  the  wealth  of  others  is  entirely  mineral.  Some 
contain  lands  as  rich  as  any  in  the  world ;  others  are 
mere  deserts.  It  follows  that  the  interests  of  such 
different  localities  are  widely  divergent  from  one  an- 
other, and  the  problem  of  harmonizing  those  differ- 
ences is  by  no  means  easy.  Again,  there  are  few 
lands  in  which  the  problems  of  locomotion  are  harder 
of  solution,  for,  under  present  circumstances,  railways 
cannot  be  carried  to  some  of  the  richest  areas  of  the 
country,  owing  to  great  natural  obstacles.  Other 
parts  might  easily  enough  be  supplied  with  railways 
but  for  the  not  unnatural  jealousy  of  richer  places 
which  cannot  be  so  supplied.  It  follows  that  to  pass 
legislation  in  Bolivia  for  the  development  of  any  iso- 
lated part  of  the  country  is  difficult,  and  the  influence 

307 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

of  the  place  where  the  legislature  meets  is  necessarily 
an  important  factor. 

La  Paz  for  several  years  had  been  deprived  (and 
in  the  opinion  of  its  citizens  unjustly  deprived)  of 
its  right  to  receive  the  government  and  legislature. 
Its  inhabitants  now  began  to  clamor  for  their  city  to 
take  its  turn  as  capital.  Unfortunately,  La  Paz  is 
difficult  of  access,  and  lies  quite  out  of  the  way  of  all 
the  southern  and  southeastern  part  of  Bolivia.  The 
representatives  of  the  parts  of  the  country  which  are 
not  in  easy  communication  with  La  Paz  formed  the 
majority  in  the  legislature.  After  a  period  of  temporiz- 
ing, they  finally  passed  a  measure  by  which  it  was 
decreed  that  for  the  future  Sucre,  and  Sucre  only, 
should  be  Bolivia's  capital.  Now  Sucre  is  a  place 
of  very  little  importance  in  itself,  and  would  have 
no  claim  to  be  capital  were  it  not  for  the  big  govern- 
ment buildings  that  have  been  raised  there,  and  the 
fact  that  a  number  of  influential  persons  have  built 
themselves  houses  and  settled  down  there.  Sucre 
is  not  a  centre  of  agriculture,  manufacture,  or  com- 
merce. The  diplomatic  representatives  of  foreign 
countries  make  La  Paz  their  home,  and  only  pay 
Sucre  occasional  visits.  Not  unnaturally,  therefore, 
the  people  of  La  Paz  felt  that  by  this  measure  their 
interests  were  seriously  compromised.  Enthusiastic 
meetings  were  held  during  the  last  days  of  my  stay 
in  the  town,  and  it  became  evident  that  resistance 
would  be  made. 

A  provisional  government  was  formed  in  La  Paz 
and  a  proclamation  issued  to  the  effect  that,  if  Sucre 
was  to   be  the  capital   of   Bolivia,  the  constitution 

308 


LAST   RIDE    OVER    THE    PUNA 

should  be  altered  to  a  federal  form,  so  that  the  De- 
partment of  La  Paz  should  become  a  self-governing 
state  in  a  Bolivian  union.  Ultimately,  the  matter 
was  referred  to  the  arbitrament  of  war.  Government 
troops  from  Sucre  and  the  south  generally  occupied 
Oruro,  while  the  people  of  La  Paz  marshalled  their 
forces  for  their  own  defence.  The  attempt  to  besiege 
La  Paz  and  reduce  it  failed.  At  last  a  battle  decided 
the  issue  and  La  Paz  won  the  day.  It  is  now  the  cap- 
ital, while  the  former  President,  Alonzo,  had  to  give 
place  to  General  Pando,  the  commander  of  the  north- 
ern forces.  His  position  having  been  legalized  by  an 
overwhelming  popular  vote,  he  was  duly  installed 
President,  and  has  proved  himself  to  be  one  of  the 
most  capable  and  energetic  Presidents  the  country 
ever  possessed. 

As  far  as  fighting  was  concerned,  little  blood  was 
shed;  but  during  the  disturbances  the  Indians  tended 
to  lapse  into  an  anarchical  state,  though  the  mischief 
did  not  go  far.  One  or  two  local  Indian  risings,  I 
believe,  took  place.  In  Zongo,  for  instance,  the  go- 
males  were  raided  by  Indian  workmen,  who  plun- 
dered them  of  whatever  was  of  value,  besides  putting 
some  people  to  death.  At  Corocoro  also,  the  great 
copper-mining  centre,  there  was  an  Indian  rising, 
and  the  white  manager  of  one  of  the  mines  fled  with 
his  wife  and  daughter.  Some  blundering  official, 
through  whose  district  they  were  passing,  turned 
them  back  because  they  had  no  passport! — the  result 
being  that  they  were  overtaken  by  an  Indian  mob. 
It  is  asserted  that  their  lives  were  not  in  danger,  but 
at  all  events  the  man  thought  they  were,  and,  mind- 

309 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

ful  of  the  past  history  of  Indian  uprisings,  he  shot 
his  wife  and  daughter  and  took  his  own  hfe.  But 
these  were  sporadic  cases  of  lawlessness.  Order  was 
quickly  restored.  The  fact  that  no  general  rising  took 
place  serves  to  prove  how  well,  on  the  whole,  the  Ind- 
ians are  restrained  by  the  small  white  population  of 
Bolivia,  whom  they  outnumber  by  at  least  fifteen  to 
one. 

At  such  a  time  it  was  not,  of  course,  easy  to  organize 
a  mountaineering  expedition  to  Sajama.  I  was  re- 
luctantly obliged  to  abandon  the  project  and  to  con- 
tent myself  with  journeying  down  to  the  coast  by  the 
ordinary  high-road  to  Oruro,  and  the  railway  thence 
to  Antofagasta.  The  baggage  was  packed  and  de- 
livered over  to  the  carriers,  and  the  last  morning  of 
my  sojourn  in  La  Paz  arrived.  It  was  a  brilliant 
day,  and  I  was  early  afoot,  when  the  Bolivian  ladies, 
in  their  black  manteaux,  were  just  returning  from 
mass.  In  the  shade,  under  the  blank  pink  wall  over 
against  the  church,  sat  a  long  row  of  women  behind  their 
baskets  of  flowers — roses,  pinks,  verbenas,  and  many 
garden  blossoms  unknown  to  me.  The  street  was 
flooded  with  sunshine,  and  the  dark  shadows  hid  them- 
selves under  the  wide  eaves.  The  Alto  wall  around 
the  town,  and  lUimani  in  the  far  distance,  were  check- 
ered with  blue  shadows.  White  towers  of  cloud  were 
mounting  behind  the  Cordillera  into  the  blue  sky. 
Doctor  Bridgeman,  the  able  and  kindly  United  States 
Minister,  was  awaiting  me  at  the  door  of  the  Legation, 
with  a  big  horse  ready  saddled  for  my  use.  We  rode 
away,  noisily  caracoling  down  the  cobbled  streets, 
through  the  Alameda,  and  so  out  along  the  road  bor- 

310 


LAST   RIDE    OVER    THE    PUNA 

dered  by  suburban  gardens,  all  a  mass  of  blossom, 
fragrantly  scenting  the  air.  The  hedges  of  rose  and 
cactus  followed,  and  the  place  where  water  drips 
over  and  covers  a  cliff  with  moss  and  little  starlike 
white  flowers.  Once  again  I  entered  Obrajes,  that 
charming  country  resort  of  the  gentry  of  La  Paz. 
We  visited  an  old  lady  of  courtliest  manners,  who  took 
us  into  her  garden,  showed  us  all  its  rich  promises 
of  fruit,  and  would  have  burdened  us  down  with  nose- 
gays of  flowers  had  there  been  any  means  of  carrying 
them  off.  Before  the  heat  of  the  day  we  trotted  back 
to  La  Paz  to  breakfast  at  the  United  States  Legation. 
The  rest  of  the  day  was  devoted  to  paying  bills  and 
calls,  and  making  the  last  arrangements  for  depart- 
ure. The  usual  thunder-storm  and  downpour  of  rain 
came  in  the  afternoon,  and  not  until  late  at  night  did 
the  stars  look  forth. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
LA  PAZ  TO  ORURO 

THE  heavy  rains  of  November  12th  were  succeeded 
by  a  brilliant  morning  of  hot  sunshine,  cool  air, 
and  dust  for  once  well  laid.  At  an  early  hour 
the  guides  and  I  sallied  forth  from  our  hotel,  accom- 
panied by  a  party  of  our  best  friends,  and  proceeded 
to  the  post-station,  where  the  public  coach  that  was  to 
carry  us  and  two  or  three  other  passengers  to  Oruro  was 
drawn  up,  with  the  baggage-wagon  behind  it.  Both 
had  a  ramshackle  appearance.  The  baggage-wagon 
seemed,  and  was,  too  light  for  the  unusually  heavy  load 
that  my  luggage  amounted  to.  At  seven  o'clock,  after 
many  delays,  all  was  ready.  The  horses  were  cast  off ; 
the  driver  stamped  and  whistled;  we  waved  farewell 
to  our  acquaintances,  and,  for  the  fourteenth  time, 
began  traversing  the  zigzags  that  lead  up  to  the  Alto. 
As  we  rose,  the  surrounding  mountains  disentangled 
themselves  from  their  lower  slopes  and  mounted  into  the 
air.  Illimani,  with  a  school  of  white  clouds  floating 
around  it,  was  almost  like  a  thing  transparent,  seen 
through  some  of  the  self-same  veil  of  azure  firmament 
that  hides  the  night  of  space  behind  the  fiction  of  sky, 
which  to-day  was  pervaded  by  a  fiery  light  unusually 
fierce.  Cacaaca,  in  another  quarter  of  the  horizon, 
shone  sharp  and  solid  in  its  mantle  of  new-fallen  snow, 

312 


LA   PAZ    TO    ORURO 

which  trailed  all  around  it  far  down  on  to  the  plain. 
The  little  fields  of  the  suburbs  were  all  fresh  with  young 
green  shoots,  and  Indians  were  piping  among  them. 
Driving  with  great  energy,  and  helped  by  an  extra 
team  of  mules  hitched  on  in  front,  we  made  quick 
ascent,  topping  the  Alto  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  and 
gaining  there  our  last  glimpse  of  the  hospitable  town 
we  had  left. 

We  galloped  off  at  a  splendid  pace  across  the  plain, 
and  saw  its  wide  undulations  stretching  away  in 
many  directions,  white  with  snow,  the  pink  hills  lifting 
themselves  beyond  it  to  the  west  in  hot  sunshine. 
For  several  miles  our  jehu  drove  with  a  fury  that  ex- 
pressed itself  in  the  agitation  of  his  voice  and  of  all 
his  limbs  at  once.  He  carried  under  his  seat  a  large 
collection  of  rocks,  which  he  violently  and  skilfully 
threw,  one  by  one,  at  the  leaders,  hitting  them  where 
he  pleased,  and  sometimes  making  an  intentional 
cannon  off  a  wheeler  on  to  a  leader,  or  off  one  leader 
on  to  the  other.  He  also  carried  an  extra  trace-bar, 
fitted  with  loose  rings  at  the  ends  and  middle.  With  it 
he  jabbed  the  wheelers  in  the  rear,  making  a  great 
clatter  with  the  rings,  or  sometimes  merely  knocked 
the  thing  against  the  foot-board  to  make  the  rings 
rattle,  an  indication  of  readiness  to  act  which  his  team 
was  quick  to  understand.  Thus  stamping  his  feet, 
yelling,  throwing  stones,  rattling  his  bar,  or  taking 
a  turn  at  the  whip,  he  stimulated  the  team  to  great 
exertion,  and  covered  the  ground  at  a  wild  speed,  and 
this,  notwithstanding  the  roughness  of  the  road,  the 
short,  steep  ascents  and  descents,  the  stones  that  lay 
about,  and  the  consequent  leaping  and  jolting  of  the 

313 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

vehicle,  which  made  the  passengers  hang  on  to  their 
seats  hke  grim  death  and  rattled  the  teeth  in  their 
heads.  Such  hysterical  vigor  could  not  be  prolonged 
all  day.  We  soon  found  that  it  alternated  with  peri- 
ods in  which  our  driver  blissfully  slept  on  his  box,  sit- 
ting upon  the  reins,  while  his  mules  or  ponies  crawled 
along  at  a  snail's  pace.  The  duration  of  periods  of 
activity  and  repose  seemed,  however,  to  be  well  cal- 
culated, for,  except  in  case  of  an  accident,  we  never 
failed  to  arrive  at  the  different  post-stages  very  near- 
ly at  the  prearranged  time. 

For  some  miles  the  way  was  well  known  to  us,  and 
the  scenery  remained  of  the  kind  characteristic  of 
the  Puna,  save  that  the  Cordillera  was  more  and  more 
hidden  from  view  by  intervening  low  hills.  We  could 
see  the  clouds  piling  themselves  up  behind  it  and 
gradually  nodding  over,  but  Illimani  remained  clear 
and  grew  to  be  almost  insignificant  beneath  the  mighty 
mountain  of  white  cloud  that  was  elevated  behind  it. 
The  power  of  the  sun  soon  made  itself  felt,  and  the 
light  dust  began  to  fly,  so  that  we  breathed  it  in  and 
had  our  clothes  saturated  by  it.  Mirages,  like  broad 
Titicaca  itself,  inundated  the  plain,  and  the  western 
hills  rose  out  of  them  like  islands,  pink  in  sunshine, 
purple  in  shadow.  Vicunas  were  not  infrequently 
seen  in  different  directions,  and  once  a  splendid  condor 
rose  from  the  road  just  in  front  of  the  horses  and  soared 
magnificently  aloft. 

Every  two  or  three  hours  there  was  a  halt  to  change 
teams,  and  the  humors  of  the  different  beasts  formed 
the  chief  interest  of  the  way.  They  were  generally 
wild  at  starting,  calling  forth  the  reserve  power  of 

314 


of        . 


LA   PAZ   TO    ORURO 

our  driver,  really  a  splendid  whip.  The  way  he  dealt 
with  a  couple  of  rearing  leaders,  who  turned  round 
and  looked  him  in  the  face,  was  a  sight  to  see;  he 
appeared  to  assail  them  simultaneously  with  his  whip 
while  jabbing  at  the  wheelers  and  enveloping  the 
whole  team  in  a  shower  of  stones.  Gradually  the 
wide  plain  we  were  traversing  narrowed  to  a  mere 
valley  as  we  passed,  at  no  great  distance,  a  small 
square-topped  hill  with  a  broad  ramp  artificially  con- 
trived for  its  ascent.  It  had  the  appearance  of  some 
staged  Mexican  temple  in  ruins,  and  was  doubtless 
another  of  the  sacred  high  places  of  prehistoric  Bo- 
livia. The  population  now  became  sparse,  the  vil- 
lages few  and  far  between;  it  was  seldom  that  we 
encountered  any  one  upon  the  road.  At  mid-day, 
under  the  glaring  vertical  sun,  drowsiness  invaded  us 
all,  and  we  slept  till  suddenly  awakened  by  the  ap- 
proach of  the  mail-cart  coming  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion from  Oruro,  the  first  civilized  vehicle  we  had  en- 
countered. Both  drivers  stopped  and  gazed  in  silence 
at  one  another  for  some  time,  as  though  pleased  to 
meet,  but  having  nothing  whatever  to  say.  At  last  one 
inquired :    "  What  news  ?' ' 

''Nothing,"  replied  the  other. 

''What  did  he  say?''  asked  the  first,  continuing, 
doubtless,  a  conversation  a  fortnight  old. 

"Nothing,''  was  the  answer. 

"Good,"  said  the  first,  and  they  drove  on. 

This  was  the  longest  conversation  I  heard  our  driver 
take  part  in  during  the  three  days  we  were  together. 

The  land  about  us  was  generally  stony  and  un- 
cultivated, but  once  or  twice  we  passed  through  green, 

315 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

sweet-smelling  areas  where  dwarf  junipers  were  grow- 
ing. Sometimes  we  encountered  caravans  of  llamas 
travelling  their  slow  way  along  the  road,  or  again 
we  met  them  scattered  abroad  over  the  country,  pick- 
ing up  the  nourishment  they  require  from  dried  plants, 
of  whose  existence  the  eye  scarcely  made  one  aware, 
while  their  drivers  were  resting  near  the  piled -up 
loads. 

A  mile  or  two  before  reaching  the  village  of  Ayoayo 
the  road  began  to  be  bordered  at  regular  and  frequent 
intervals  by  tall  mud-built  piers  of  the  time  of  the 
Spaniards,  each  simple  in  form,  but  by  their  mere 
multitude  and  regularity  of  alignment  producing  quite 
a  noble  effect.  They  are  the  remnants  of  the  long  se- 
ries which,  I  am  told,  in  ancient  days  marked  out  all 
the  route  from  Lima  to  the  famous  mines  of  Potosi. 
As  we  approached  the  village  where  we  were  to  spend 
the  night,  heavy  clouds  gathered  overhead  and  began 
to  drop  rain.  There  was  every  sign  of  an  approach- 
ing thunder-storm,  but  no  considerable  amount  of 
rain  fell.  At  sunset  a  stream  of  glowing  color  poured 
forth  through  an  opening  in  the  heavens,  framed 
by  the  leaden  earth  below,  the  leaden  clouds  above, 
and  by  pillars  of  thunder-storm  on  either  hand — a 
window  to  the  west  bordered  and  barred  with  gold. 
The  mellow  light,  caught  by  the  mud  walls  of  the 
fields  and  houses  of  the  village,  transfigured  them 
into  the  likeness  of  palaces  built  of  precious  stones. 

The  general  round  of  a  day's  experiences  in  travelling 
over  the  high  Bolivian  plateau  at  this  time  of  year 
closely  resembled  the  experiences  of  a  traveller  in 
the   desert  mountain  region  within  Kashmir.     The 

316 


LA   PAZ   TO    ORURO 

early  morning  was  always  so  brightly  cold  that  one's 
feet  became  numb,  and  the  whole  body  suffered  great 
discomfort  from  chill.  Only  by  beating  the  arms 
against  the  chest  and  stamping  could  a  little  sensa- 
tion be  maintained  in  hands  and  feet.  Sunrise  brought 
a  blissful  hour  of  thaw,  in  which  sensation  returned 
to  the  body,  while  the  radiant  heat  of  the  sun  was 
tempered  by  cool  air.  All  too  quickly  this  pleasant 
time  passed,  as  the  sun  rose,  raging,  into  the  heavens, 
flooded  the  wide,  bare  landscape  with  its  glare  of  light, 
too  brilliant  for  the  eye  to  rest  upon,  and  poured  its 
torment  of  heat  on  the  suffering  wayfarer.  The 
power  of  observation  was  quickly  burned  up,  and  the 
traveller  settled  down  to  a  dreamy  condition  of  suf- 
fering, in  which  the  hours  dragged  themselves  slowly 
along  and  the  hoped-for  evening  loitered.  Late  in 
the  afternoon,  perhaps,  clouds  which  had  long  been 
gathering  around  the  horizon  rose  high  enough  aloft 
to  hide  the  sun,  and  a  great  relief  and  joy  was  im- 
mediately felt.  The  evening  hour,  whether  cloudy  or 
not,  brought  a  delicious  return  of  comfort;  the  mind 
resumed  its  control,  observation  awakened,  the  land- 
scape regained  its  beauty  and  grew  even  yet  more 
beautiful,  until  the  sun  set  in  momentary  glory  and 
the  night  came  on.  Even  then  the  cold  hesitated  to 
return,  for  the  hot  earth  kept  it  at  bay  for  hours  after 
the  stars  had  come  out  in  all  their  splendor  and  the 
evening  clouds  had  faded  away. 

The  second  morning  of  our  drive  was  cold  and  gray, 
till  the  sun  rose  colorless  in  the  midst  of  a  white  mist. 
The  road  lay  along  a  well-marked  river  valley,  with 
pilastrons  beside  it  at  frequent  intervals.     The  most 

317 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

interesting  sight  was  an  abandoned  prehistoric  village 
of  little  rectangular  mud  huts  roofed  with  mud,  every 
hut  standing  separate  from  its  neighbor,  most  of  them 
arranged  in  a  row  in  echelon,  each  so  situated  that 
the  side  in  the  midst  of  which  the  door  was  cut  faced 
the  east.  The  ancient  inhabitants  were  buried  be- 
neath the  floors  of  these  houses.  The  hideous  pile 
of  human  remains  recently  excavated,  which  lay 
about  the  huts,  witnessed  the  activity  of  the  Bando- 
liers. A  little  way  farther  on  came  the  village  fes- 
tively named  Patac-Amaya  (Hundred  Corpses),  the 
site,  I  suppose,  of  some  ancient  battle.  Here  occurred 
a  change  in  domestic  architecture,  the  usual  Indian 
house  now  apparently  consisting  of  a  round  building 
and  an  oblong  one  in  connection.  Such  round  houses 
I  had  not  before  seen  in  Bolivia. 

As  we  halted  to  change  horses,  Mr.  Bandolier  and 
his  wife,  who  were  on  the  lookout  for  us,  walked  up, 
to  my  great  delight.  The  top  of  Illimani  was  still 
in  sight  in  one  direction,  and  Sajama  would  have  been 
visible  in  the  other  if  the  weather  had  been  clear ;  so, 
at  all  events,  they  told  me.  I  still  had  hopes  of  being 
able  to  make  up  a  caravan  at  Oruro  to  visit  Sajama 
and  ascend  the  mountain  from  the  tin-foundry  Chang- 
amoco.  Mr.  Bandelier  promised  to  come  with  me. 
He  gave  an  account  of  his  excavations,  which  had 
been  productive  of  very  interesting  results,  enabling 
him  to  reconstruct  much  of  the  ancient  village-life  of 
the  people  in  this  neighborhood.  A  mile  or  two  farther 
on  a  wheel  of  the  coach  went  wrong  as  we  were  passing 
a  rather  large  farm.  The  driver  appealed  to  the  farmer 
for  assistance,  and  the  curious  process  of  adjustment 

318 


LA   PAZ   TO    ORURO 

was  begun.  A  rough  kind  of  screw-jack  was  pro- 
duced. Lifting  the  axle  off  the  ground,  the  wheel 
was  taken  off  and  the  hub  packed  with  a  lot  of  old 
sacking,  richly  greased  and  wedged  in  with  a  number 
of  bits  of  wood.  Unsatisfactory  though  the  mending 
seemed,  it  apparently  sufficed,  for  after  half  an  hour's 
halt  we  were  able  to  proceed,  though  only  at  a  snail's 
pace.  The  team  was  a  wretched  one.  Every  mule 
had  a  sore  back  and  shoulder,  nor  could  the  driver, 
even  by  cruelly  searching  out  the  sores  with  his  whip, 
provoke  the  miserable  beasts  out  of  a  walk. 

The  scenery  remained  ever  the  same.  On  the  left 
was  the  long  line  of  hills  which  had  begun  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  La  Paz,  there  forming  the  right  bank  of 
the  valley  of  the  La  Paz  River  and  the  eastern  margin 
of  the  Puna.  On  the  right,  isolated  hills  emerged 
from  the  plain,  which  was  covered  here  and  there 
with  patches  of  the  green  juniper,  called  guar  da  roseo. 
There  was  hardly  a  house,  or  even  a  ruin  or  abandoned 
field.  A  long,  gentle  ascent  led  over  a  wide  col  to  the 
town  of  Sicasica,  whence  a  broad  sort  of  basin  came 
into  view,  with  the  next  post-station.  Aroma,  visible 
at  the  far  side  of  it,  and  the  long  dip  and  rise  of  the 
road  clearly  traceable  between.  With  a  new  team  we 
made  fine  progress,  and  were  just  approaching  Aroma 
when  news  was  brought,  by  a  horseman  galloping 
after  us,  that  the  baggage-wagon  had  utterly  broken 
down  a  mile  or  two  back,  the  wheel  being  smashed 
past  hope  of  repair.  No  such  thing  as  a  cart  was  to  be 
had  nearer  than  Oruro  in  one  direction,  and  La  Paz 
in  the  other,  the  place  where  the  accident  occurred 
being  practically  half-way  between  the  two.     It  was 

319 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

decided,  therefore,  to  telegraph  from  Sicasica  to  La 
Paz  for  another  wagon  to  be  sent,  involving  a  delay 
of  two  days.  The  wagon  ultimately  arrived,  after 
the  loss  of  one  more  day,  loaded  up  the  baggage,  and 
brought  it  on  another  quarter  of  the  journey.  Then 
another  smash,  and  consequent  further  delay,  oc- 
curred. This  time  they  rode  into  Oruro  for  assistance, 
brought  out  yet  a  third  wagon,  and  with  that  delivered 
our  goods  safely,  but  nearly  a  week  late,  at  the  rail- 
way station.  This  loss  of  a  week  finally  knocked 
on  the  head  any  possibility  there  might  have  been 
of  my  visiting  Mount  Sajama.  Fortunately,  I  had 
a  few  packages  in  our  own  vehicle,  and  so  was  not 
entirely  deprived  of  comforts  in  the  interval,  as  were 
most  of  my  fellow-travellers. 

In  the  hot  afternoon  we  ascended  and  descended 
some  valleys,  trending  in  the  same  direction  as  the 
road,  and  crossed  two  low  passes.  I  slept  most  of  the 
time,  holding  on  to  the  seat,  till  soft,  hazy  clouds  cov- 
ered the  sun  at  4  P.M.,  and  a  cool  breeze  sprang  up. 
In  less  than  an  hour  Carocollo  was  reached,  and  the 
day's  journey  ended.  Carocollo  is  rather  a  large 
Indian  village  or  town,  occupying  the  site  of  an  an- 
cient settlement.  On  the  hill,  without  the  present 
boundaries  of  the  place,  there  lie  ruins  of  mud  huts 
like  broken  towers.  I  spent  some  time  examining 
them.  They  were  not  square  on  plan,  as  from  the 
distance  they  appeared,  but  oblong  and  very  narrow 
inside,  the  walls  being  thick,  and  the  roofs  formed 
by  a  false  arch  held  in  place  by  the  immense  amount 
of  material  piled  up.  The  doors  were  small  and  low, 
pointed  at  the  top,  with  false  arches.     It  was  necessary 

320 


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-Unk 

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ten 

k                                   -> 

'       OF  tHE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


LA   PAZ    TO    ORURO 

to  go  down  on  one's  knees  to  crawl  in.  There  were 
no  windows,  and  the  chambers  were  more  Uke  graves 
than  places  for  dwelling.  Here  also,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  the  doors  opened  towards  the  east,  and  the 
houses  were  so  planted  that  one  should  not  interfere 
with  the  eastward  view  from  the  door  of  another.  In 
Mr.  Bandolier's  opinion,  this  eastward  position  does 
not  necessarily  imply  any  sun-worship,  and  may  have 
no  religious  significance,  but  merely  be  due  to  the  de- 
sire of  the  people  for  warmth,  the  low  sun  striking 
in  from  the  east,  bringing  the  morning  warmth  most 
quickly  into  these  cold  shelters.  I  was  interested  by 
his  statement,  but  unconvinced. 

Beyond  Carocollo  we  entered  an  immense  fiat,  with 
hills  on  the  left,  and  others  far  away  to  the  right. 
Straight  in  front  was  a  separate  group,  seen  end  on, 
at  the  farther  extremity  of  which,  we  were  informed,  was 
the  town  of  Oruro,  nine  leagues  away.  For  traversing 
these  nine  leagues  a  single  team  of  mules  was  alone 
supplied,  there  being  no  post-house  between  Carocol- 
lo and  Oruro.  In  three  leagues  came  green,  mossy, 
boggy  ground,  whitened  with  a  saline  deposit  as 
with  hoar  frost.  The  road  was  heavy  even  now;  in 
the  rainy  season  all  this  flat  is  a  great  swamp,  over 
which  the  coaches  have  to  be  dragged  hub-deep  in 
slime.  They  are  often  stuck,  and  even  broken  up, 
at  that  time;  so  that  it  is  no  matter  for  wonder  if  Bo- 
livians prefer  to  stay  at  home  during  the  rainy  months 
and  do  their  travelling  in  the  dry  time  of  year.  The 
endless  row  of  pilastrons  stretching  across  this  great 
flat,  league  after  league,  was  really  an  imposing  sight, 
while  the  road,  wandering  about  to  right  and  left  to 
X  321 


THE    BOLIVIAN   ANDES 

avoid  old  ruts  or  specially  noxious  swamps,  was  of 
very  mediaeval  appearance.  Our  team  was  soon  tired, 
and  seldom  quickened  its  pace  beyond  a  walk.  Once 
or  twice  halts  were  made  of  half  an  hour's  dura- 
tion to  rest  the  beasts.  Thus,  in  the  cold  morning 
some  of  us  preferred  walking,  and  gained  a  consider- 
able advance  upon  the  coach.  Our  Colombian  fellow- 
traveller  was  farthest  ahead.  I  caught  up  with  him 
resting  under  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  pilastrons, 
when  the  heat  began  to  prevail.  He  called  to  know 
if  I  had  any  food.  I  said  "No."  "Yesterday,"  he 
said,  "breakfast  little,  bad,  and  dear;  dinner  little, 
bad,  and  dear;  this  morning  no  breakfast.  I  am 
hungry!"  I  fully  sympathized  with  him,  so  we  sat 
down  and  hungered  together. 

I  found  by  experiment  that  the  distance  between  two 
pilastrons  was  one  hundred  and  forty  paces.  When 
the  coach  caught  us  up,  I  climbed  on  board,  and 
asked  the  driver  how  many  pilastrons  go  to  a  league. 
" Segun,"  he  replied,  "according  to  circumstances." 
Every  one  presently  went  to  sleep,  nor  did  I  wake  till 
the  Oruro  Hill  was  at  hand.  Along  its  foot  are  the 
clearly  marked  traces  of  a  former  lake  that  once  sub- 
merged it  to  a  depth  of  two  hundred  feet  or  more.  The 
whole  of  the  plain  that  here  surrounded  us  is  the 
bed  of  an  ancient  lake,  whose  margin  can  still  be 
traced  afar.  Mr.  Minchin  reckons  that  this  inland 
sea,  now  shrunk  to  the  dimensions  of  Lake  Poopo, 
was  formerly  twenty  thousand  square  miles  in  area. 
Whether  its  waters  were  anywhere  continuous  with 
those  of  the  expanded  Lake  Titicaca,  I  do  not  know, 
but  such  was  probably  the  case. 

322 


LA    PAZ   TO    ORURO 

The  fact  that  we  were  approaching  Oruro  was  mani- 
fested by  the  signs  of  mining  activity  on  the  slopes  of 
the  hill  to  our  right.  At  last,  from  the  summit  of  a 
gentle  slope,  the  town  came  into  view;  not  a  Span- 
ish-looking town  like  La  Paz  or  Arequipa,  but  rather 
an  exaggerated  Indian  village  of  mud  huts,  crowded  to- 
gether along  cobbled  road- ways.  Only  when  the  heart 
of  the  town  was  reached  did  we  come  to  streets  of 
civilized  houses  and  to  municipal  buildings  of  some 
dignity.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  find  a  reasonably  good 
hotel,  and  a  still  greater  delight  to  be  presently  re- 
ceived into  the  comfortable  house  of  Mr.  Penny,  pro- 
prietor of  the  famous  San  Jose  silver -mine.  His 
home  is  the  centre  for  all  English  visitors,  and  I  was 
made  free  of  it  with  the  kindest  hospitality.  There  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  Mr.  Minchin,  whose 
knowledge  of  Bolivia  is  second  to  no  man's.  During 
many  years  he  surveyed  important  areas  of  the  coun- 
try for  the  Bolivian  government,  and  he  has  been 
connected  with  most  of  the  important  mining  centres. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
ORURO    TO    THE    PACIFIC 

OWING  to  our  baggage  troubles,  I  was  delayed 
'  several  days  in  Oruro,  where  the  guides  had  the 
misfortune  to  fall  foul  of  the  local  police.  What 
they  did  that  offended  against  the  laws  they  hardly 
seemed  to  understand.  At  all  events,  one  of  them  was 
"run  in/'  and  the  other  went  along  with  him.  Ar- 
rived at  the  police  station,  a  gendarme  told  him  that 
he  must  pay  five  dollars  He  refused.  "Then/'  said 
the  gendarme,  "you  must  stay  in  prison.''  Both 
guides  protested  loudly,  and  demanded  that  I  should 
be  sent  for.     This  was  refused. 

"Ultimately,"  as  Pellissier  related,  "I  began  to 
think  that  in  this  country  people  generally  asked  more 
than  they  intended  to  get,  and  that  by  bargaining 
you  could  beat  down  the  price  of  anything  you  wanted 
to  buy,  so  I  thought  I  would  try  and  bargain  with 
them.  I  said,  '  I  have  not  got  five  dollars,  but  I  have 
got  fifty  cents,  and  that  I  will  give  you.'  They  said 
no — four  dollars  would  do.  So  then  I  appealed  to 
my  comrade,  who  said  he  had  ten  cents  more,  so  we 
offered  sixty  cents."  The  police  then  lowered  their 
price,  and  ultimately  terms  were  arranged  on  a  com- 
promise of  eighty  cents.  The  relation  of  this  story 
to  my  friends  brought  out  many  more  about  the  Oruro 

324 


ORURO    TO    THE    PACIFIC 

police,  who  do  not  seem  to  enjoy  a  very  favorable  repu- 
tation among  the  foreign  inhabitants  of  the  town. 
I  suppose  their  main  business  is  to  keep  order  among 
the  Indians,  and  I  judge  by  appearances  that  they 
do  that  work  well  enough.  It  is  more  than  possible 
that  between  a  set  of  ill-paid,  uneducated  men,  en- 
dowed with  the  power  of  police,  and  a  party  of  foreign 
mining  engineers,  accustomed  to  the  habits  of  Euro- 
pean countries,  relations  may  somxctimes  be  strained. 
The  substantial  fact,  however,  must  be  borne  in  mind 
that  in  this  remote  country  order  is  preserved  among 
an  overwhelming  body  of  semi-savage  Indians,  so 
that  important  commercial  enterprises  can  be  carried 
on  and  substantial  profits  made. 

In  La  Paz  and  its  neighborhood  I  had  only  met 
three  Englishmen  or  Americans,  the  foreign  colony 
there  being  almost  entirely  composed  of  Germans 
engaged  in  retail  trade;  but  at  Oruro  there  were  over 
fort}^  English,  all  managing  mines  or  machinery. 
Speaking  generally,  this  was  characteristic  of  South 
America:  where  work  was  to  be  done  involving  the 
management  of  men  in  any  numbers,  or  of  machinery, 
there  was  generally  an  English-speaking  person  in 
control;  whereas,  where  it  w^as  a  question  of  selling 
cheap  goods  to  suit  the  local  taste  and  requirements, 
such  trade  was  in  the  hands  of  Germans.  Germany 
has  learned  what  England  has  not,  the  importance 
and  profitableness  of  exporting  her  shopkeepers.  In 
the  great  tide  of  English  emigration,  the  shopkeeping 
element  has  taken  but  a  small  part. 

One  day  my  kind  hosts  drove  me  out  to  visit  the 
mine.     The  well-appointed  laudau  and  pair,  with  a 

325 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

stylish  coachman  on  the  box,  was  rather  a  strange 
sight  in  a  street  of  Indian  mud  huts  and  on  the  desert 
outside  the  town.  The  hill,  in  which  the  San  Jose  and 
other  mines  are  situated,  lies  immediately  behind  the 
town,  and  is  visible  from  all  parts  of  it.  It  has  been 
known  for  its  rich  silver  deposits  since  the  days  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  the  gash  made  by  the  old  Spanish 
workings  is  a  prominent  feature  on  the  hill-side.  At 
one  time  its  wealth  was  believed  to  be  exhausted,  but 
large  veins  of  ore  of  great  richness  were  afterwards 
discovered,  and  it  will  be  many  years  before  they  are 
worked  out.  The  hill  is  now  tunnelled  with  many 
galleries,  while  there  is  a  shaft  a  thousand  feet  deep 
descending  into  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth.  The 
trouble  here,  as  in  so  many  other  Bolivian  mines,  is 
to  keep  the  deep  level  workings  free  of  water,  for  the 
water  that  rushes  in  is  strongly  impregnated  with 
chemicals  which  eat  up  iron  and  render  ordinary 
pumping  operations  impossible.  The  water  has  to 
be  hoisted  out  of  the  mine  by  an  endless  chain  of  great 
leather  buckets,  which  alone  can  resist  the  chemical 
action.  For  this  and  other  purposes  considerable 
steam-power  is  required.  Whatever  coal  is  used  has 
to  be  brought  up  by  the  narrow-gauge  railway  from 
sea-level  to  this  high  altitude,  a  distance  of  nine  hun- 
dred and  twenty-four  kilometres.  By  the  time  it  ar- 
rives, it  is  a  very  costly  fuel.  The  only  fuels  produced 
by  the  Bolivian  plateau  are  the  resinous  balsam  bark, 
called  yareta,  the  tola  shrub,  and  the  droppings  of 
llamas.  A  large  trade  is  done  in  the  last  mentioned, 
which  up  till  recently  was  the  commonest  fuel  at  Oruro, 
though  coal,  I  believe,  is  now  beginning  to  displace  it. 

326 


ORURO    TO    THE   PACIFIC 

Not  without  astonishment,  when  I  entered  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  San  Jose  Mine,  did  I  observe  the  elaborate 
and  excellent  machinery  in  operation,  every  piece  of 
which,  brought  at  great  expense  to  the  town,  had  after- 
wards to  be  dragged  up  the  hill  through  several  hun- 
dred feet  of  altitude  by  human  labor.  The  adventures 
of  a  large  boiler  in  this  last  part  of  its  transit  were 
described  to  me  as  most  exciting,  but  Indians  have 
the  capacity  of  working  well  together  in  large  bodies, 
pulling  at  word  of  command;  and  it  is  found  possible 
to  convey  a  machine  of  almost  any  weight  to  whatever 
position  may  be  needed  by  the  labor  of  men  and  mules. 
On  a  square  space  outside  the  entrance  to  the  principal 
gallery  a  great  multitude  of  Indian  women  were  gath- 
ered, breaking  up  and  sorting  the  ore,  putting  the  rich 
pieces  in  one  heap,  the  second  quality  in  another,  the 
third  in  another,  and  so  on.  The  best  ores  are  sent  to 
Europe  for  reduction;  the  worst  are  treated  in  the 
neighborhood.  Much  tin  is  found  with  the  silver, 
besides  some  copper  and  antimony,  while  there  are, 
unfortunately,  many  patches  of  pyrites.  The  whole 
hill  is  permeated  with  metallic  veins.  In  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  the  mine  are  numbers  of  small 
houses  for  the  laborers,  of  whom  an  average  of  eight 
hundred  are  kept  at  work.  Some  of  these  people  stay 
for  life ;  some  only  come  between  the  sowing  and  reap- 
ing of  the  harvest  or  for  the  dead  season. 

The  view  from  this  point  looking  abroad  on  the 
Pampa  to  the  hills,  over  which  runs  the  road  to  Cocha- 
bamba  and  the  fertile  regions  of  the  east,  was  wide, 
barren,  and  rather  monotonous ;  but  there  were  pointed 
out  to  me  in  all  directions  the  sites  of  mines  or  of  min- 

327 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

eral  deposits  of  known  wealth — difficulties  of  workings 
lack  of  water,  or  impediments  to  easy  access,  and  con- 
sequent costliness  of  fuel,  alone  preventing,  under 
present  conditions  of  restricted  capital,  the  whole  area 
from  being  the  scene  of  a  great  activity.  The  range 
of  hills  running  northward  from  this  point  towards 
La  Paz  is  rich  in  minerals.  About  Sicasica  several 
mines  are  worked  in  a  tentative  fashion,  and  there 
are  large  known  deposits  both  of  silver  and  tin.  In 
order  to  exploit  them  properly,  the  railway  would  have 
to  be  extended  from  Oruro,  a  matter  of  little  difficulty ; 
for  it  would  be  possible  to  lay  down  a  line  almost  ex- 
actly along  the  route  followed  by  the  road,  whose 
gradients  are  usually  quite  gentle.  Only  one  or  twa 
cuttings  of  moderate  size  would  be  required,  and  no 
tunnels  whatever.  The  same  railway  might  easily  be 
prolonged  to  the  great  copper-mining  centre  of  Coro- 
coro,  and  thence  to  the  edge  of  the  La  Paz  Valley. 
Such  a  railway,  of  course,  would  not  pay,  unless  it 
were  made  in  connection  with  some  large  mining 
concessions;  but  railway  and  mines  together  would 
undoubtedly  produce  a  large  profit,  if  the  requisite 
capital  were  brought  together  and  directed  honestly 
and  skilfully.  From  the  mine  we  drove  across  the 
Pampa  to  the  pumping-station  which  supplies  Oruro 
with  water.  The  furnaces  of  the  big  engine  were 
being  fed  with  llama  droppings,  and,  as  usual,  I  found 
an  intelligent  Scotch  engineer  in  charge. 

Throughout  these  days  at  Oruro  my  poor  guides 
were  terribly  bored.  They  lay  on  their  beds  most  of 
the  time,  yearning  for  the  guides'  room  of  a  Swiss 
hotel  and  utterly  unable  to  take  any  interest  in  their 

328 


ORURO    TO    THE    PACIFIC 

surroundings.  They  did  not  even  care  to  walk  up 
to  the  mine,  though  I  procured  for  them  an  order  to 
view  it  and  the  kind  promise  of  the  foreman  to  show 
them  over.  This  lack  of  interest  in  anything  outside 
their  profession  is  a  normal  characteristic  of  Alpine 
guides.  The  only  one  I  ever  came  across  who  was 
always  on  the  alert  for  new  impressions  and  informa- 
tion of  all  sorts  was  my  excellent  companion  in  the 
Himalaya,  Zurbriggen.  Wherever  he  went  he  always 
wanted  to  know  everything  there  was  to  be  known,  and 
the  amount  of  miscellaneous  information  he  used  to 
pick  up  in  a  day's  journey  was  quite  remarkable.  His 
note-book  was  his  constant  companion ;  its  pages  were 
filled  with  sketches  and  statistics  of  all  sorts.  Thus 
time  never  hung  heavily  on  his  hands;  he  was  as 
happy  in  a  new  town  as  in  a  new  range  of  snow  moun- 
tains. Travelling  guides  of  that  calibre  will,  I  sup- 
pose, always  be  few,  but  ultimately  the  future  of  moun- 
tain exploration  will  largely  depend  upon  them.  Ma- 
quignaz  was  as  good  a  guide  in  the  mountains  as 
one  could  wish  to  have,  and  a  most  cheerful  and  merry 
companion  in  rough  places,  but  in  towns  he  became 
perfectly  miserable,  and  all  my  efforts  to  interest  him 
met  with  poor  success. 

With  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Penny,  I  was  at  last 
successful  in  procuring  a  suit  of  Indian  clothes.  The 
difficulty  in  getting  them  was  that  they  are  not  sold 
ready  made,  but  are  usually  stitched  together  for  a 
man  by  the  women  of  his  household.  One  of  Mrs. 
Penny's  native  servants,  however,  knew  of  a  local 
tailor,  and  went  to  order  the  things.  He  came  back 
to  inquire  when  the  person  for  whom  they  were  in- 

329 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

tended  would  go  to  be  measured;  he  was  sent  back  to 
say  that  they  were  wanted  to  fit  no  particular  person, 
an  answer  which  completely  staggered  him. 

''But  how  can  I  make  the  clothes  for  nobody  in 
particular?''  he  said. 

"  They  are  for  a  gentleman  who  wants  to  take  them 
to  Europe/'  was  the  answer. 

''Then,  I  suppose,  I  must  make  them  to  fit  him.'' 

"No,  that  is  not  necessary;  he  does  not  want  to 
wear  them." 

"Then  who  is  going  to  wear  them?  Is  he  big  or 
little?" 

It  took  two  or  three  visits  before  the  man  could  be 
made  to  understand  the  situation,  and,  when  the  clothes 
were  finished,  the  tailor  was  still  protesting  that  if  they 
didn't  fit  it  was  not  his  fault. 

Mr.  Minchin  gave  me  a  boxful  of  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  the  ores  in  the  neighboring  hills,  and  also 
presented  me  with  a  valuable  series  of  tracings  of  his 
surveys  in  the  parts  of  Bolivia  I  had  traversed.  Thus 
enriched,  and  with  my  baggage  at  last  safely  delivered, 
I  was  ready  to  depart  from  Bolivia. 

From  Oruro  to  the  port  of  Antofagasta,  the  journey 
is  made  by  a  narrow-gauge  railroad.  There  are  three 
trains  each  way  every  w^eek,  and  each  of  them  takes 
three  days  to  accomplish  the  distance.  But  the  one 
that  starts  on  Saturday  halts  for  Sunday  at  Uyuni, 
while  none  of  them  move  during  the  night.  There 
was  a  great  assemblage  of  passengers  and  their 
friends  at  the  railway  station,  and  the  tame  vicufia 
of  the  town  came  down,  as  its  habit  is,  to  see  the  train 

330 


ORURO   TO    THE    PACIFIC 

off.  This  vicuna  lives  a  rather  worried  Hfe,  for  the 
dogs  of  the  town  constantly  chase  it  about,  and  it 
has  to  fly  for  protection  to  its  scattered  human  friends. 
But  at  the  railway  station  it  received  much  attention, 
and  went  about  apparently  taking  notice  of  who  was 
going  away,  and  levying  contributions  from  such 
persons  as  had  food  in  their  pockets.  It  happened 
that  the  prefect  and  his  staff  wxre  going  to  a  place 
about  fifty  miles  off.  I  was  invited  to  share  their 
carriage.  The  railway  manager,  Herr  Kempf,  was  of 
the  party,  so  I  had  the  great  advantage  of  conversing 
with  him  for  two  or  three  hours  as  we  went  along. 

There  was  no  change  in  the  character  of  the  scenery, 
which  still  resembled  in  all  essentials  that  of  the  Puna. 
Oruro  is  12,200  feet  above  sea -level,  approximately 
the  altitude  of  Lake  Titicaca,  and  we  were  destined 
to  spend  the  best  part  of  three  more  days  in  these  high 
desert  regions.  On  one  side  of  the  line  is  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  Cordillera;  on  the  other,  island  hills 
emerge  from  the  alluvium,  with  the  old  water-line  of 
the  lake  traceable  on  their  flanks.  The  talk  in  the  train 
was  all  about  the  mineral  deposits  in  the  surrounding 
country.  Here,  they  said,  tin  was  to  be  found ;  there, 
copper;  there,  silver.  Great  wealth  was  promised  to 
the  man  who  properly  developed  each  of  these  mines. 
As  we  advanced  southward  the  sun  rose  higher  in 
the  heavens,  and  the  day  became  hot.  Once  more 
mirages  invaded  the  plain,  and  the  hills  rose  out  of 
them  like  islands,  while  the  little  mounds  resembled 
rowing-boats,  and  sometimes  the  tussocks  of  grass 
close  at  hand  were  mistaken  for  the  sails  of  ships  in 
the  distance. 

331 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

During  several  hours  of  the  morning  we  must  have 
been  in  full  view  of  Lake  Poopo,  for  which  I  was  con- 
stantly on  the  lookout,  yet  never  once  was  I  certainly 
sure  of  beholding  it,  and  my  note-book  bears  evidence 
of  a  strange  perplexity.  "Lake  Poopo(?)  in  sight, 
with  hills  on  the  far  side  of  it  prettily  colored/'  Again, 
'' Fascinating  view;  dead  flat  desert,  with  meagre 
yareta  mounds  and  wire -grass,  dotted  with  llamas; 
shepherds'  huts  floating  in  mirage.  Farther  on, 
whether  mirage  or  lake  I  know  not ;  then  pearly  hills 
and  soft  blue  sky.  But  one  should  see  such  a  view 
as  this  from  a  camel's  back;  a  train  is  an  anomaly 
here.  After  all,  I  conclude  there  is  no  lake  in  sight. 
It  is  all  mirage.  .  .  .  No,  it  is  not  mirage,  it  is 
Lake  Poopo,  with  mirage  along  its  meagre  shore." 
This  deceptive  landscape  lasted  two  or  three  hours, 
till  the  mirages  faded  away  and  the  clear  desert  emerged 
once  more  —  the  beautiful,  shining  desert,  with  its 
bright  sand,  gay  or  sad  according  to  your  humor, 
the  purple-pink  hills  beyond,  the  clear  sky,  and  the 
great  sense  of  space,  which  even  the  hills  neither  limit 
nor  destroy,  except  when  they  come  close  and  show  the 
barrenness  of  their  unfurnished  sides., 

We  sometimes  came  near  enough  to  the  foot  of  the 
hills  to  see  their  naked  rocks  undercut  by  the  long- 
ago  dried-up  waves  of  the  inland  sea.  Then  we  en- 
tered a  more  broken-up  region,  in  which  were  winding 
canyons,  gay  with  all  the  tints  of  Colorado — strange 
shapes  of  red  earth,  with  mounds  cut  into  queer  forms ; 
red  hills,  horizontally  stratified  with  interposed  slabs 
of  harder  rock,  denuded  into  terraces  and  seamed  up 
and  down  by  a  multitude  of  parallel  gullies.     Swing- 


ORURO    TO   THE    PACIFIC 

ing  round  a  corner,  we  burst  suddenly  upon  the  view 
of  a  wide,  dry  river-bed,  snow  white,  with  the  salt  de- 
posit cutting  across  and  strongly  contrasting  with  a 
series  of  steep-tilted  slates,  green,  red,  blue,  purple  in 
color,  and  distant  blue  hills  peeping  over  behind  them. 
All  trace  of  human  beings  had  now  vanished;  there 
were  not  even  the  footprints  of  man,  but  only  the  tracks 
of  wild  vicunas  visible  in  sandy  places.  Presently, 
as  the  sun  was  sinking,  the  desert  widened  out  once 
more,  smoking  with  blown  dust  in  the  far  distance, 
where,  out  of  it,  as  from  a  cloud,  low  blue  hills  undu- 
lated against  a  lemon  sky.  It  seemed  as  though  we 
must  be  on  the  very  margin  of  the  world,  the  limit  of 
human  habitation,  when  suddenly  the  train  rattled 
into  the  big  railway  station  of  Uyuni  (12,010  feet), 
an  important  centre  of  mineral  traffic. 

Having  deposited  the  guides  at  a  good  French  hotel 
near  the  station,  I  proceeded  to  try  and  make  arrange- 
ments for  visiting  the  Pulacayo  silver-mine,  to  which 
a  branch  road  goes  up  from  Uyuni.  I  was  amply  sup- 
plied with  efficient  letters  of  introduction,  and  was  at 
once  put  in  communication  with  the  mine  by  tele- 
phone, but  was  rather  puzzled  to  find  that  a  visit  would 
not  prove  welcome  to  the  people  in  authority.  The 
mystery  was  afterwards  satisfactorily  explained.  The 
mine,  till  a  few  years  ago,  was  one  of  the  richest  silver- 
mines  in  the  world — so  rich,  in  fact,  that  the  amount 
of  traffic  it  was  capable  of  supplying  enabled  the  rail- 
way to  be  built  from  the  sea  up  to  Uyuni.  Later  on 
the  line  was  carried  to  Oruro  to  tap  the  mines  there, 
as  no  doubt  in  future  it  will  be  carried  to  Sicasica  for 
a  similar  reason.     Unfortunately  for  the  shareholders 

333 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

of  Pulacayo  and  of  the  neighboring  reduction-works 
at  Huanchaca,  which  depend  upon  Pulacayo,  the  day 
came  when  the  mine  was  inundated  with  a  great  in- 
flush  of  water,  submerging  five  milHon  dollars'  worth 
of  silver  ore  at  that  moment  in  sight.  The  mine  being 
situated  in  a  hill,  and  the  bottom  of  it  above  the  level 
of  the  plain,  this  would  not  have  mattered  if  in  the 
days  of  its  prosperity  some  of  its  abundant  profits 
had  been  invested  in  boring  a  big  drainage  tunnel 
from  the  bottom  of  the  mine  out  to  the  open  plain. 
As  it  was,  the  inundation  was  fatal,  and  mining  oper- 
ations were  thenceforward  much  restricted.  My  pe- 
culiar misfortune  was  to  arrive  just  when,  through  the 
breaking  down  of  some  machinery,  the  water  made 
sudden  headway  and  invaded  the  levels  that  were 
still  being  worked,  thereby  threatening  the  very  ex- 
istence of  the  industry.  Not  unnaturally,  the  moment 
was  regarded  as  inauspicious  for  a  visit  from  a  traveller 
well  known  in  the  country  to  be  taking  notes.  I  am, 
therefore,  unable  to  describe  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  elaborately  organized  of  the  mining  enterprises 
of  Bolivia.  Since  1898  the  company  has  entered  upon 
a  new  period  of  great  prosperity,  fresh  lodes  of  valu- 
able ores  having  been  discovered  above  the  water- 
level. 

The  whole  of  the  following  day  (being  Sundaj^) 
was  a  time  of  very  pleasant  repose.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon I  wandered  forth  from  the  little  town  on  to  the 
great  desert  that  surrounds  it,  a  desert  almost  incredi- 
bly flat  and  uncompromisingly  barren,  covered  over 
large  areas,  at  or  close  to  the  surface,  with  a  cake  of 
rocklike  solidity,  beneath  which  was  sand.    Numerous 

334 


ORURO    TO    THE    PACIFIC 

skeletons  of  mules  were  lying  about  near  the  tracks 
radiating  from  the  town.  The  gaunt  bones,  sticking 
up  through  thin  layers  of  mirage,  looked  like  the  ribs 
of  wrecked  ships.  The  same  atmospheric  agency 
distorted  an  approaching  caravan  of  llamas  into  the 
semblance  of  a  forest.  At  sunset  the  desert  became 
black  beneath  a  motionless  canopy  of  high  mist,  barred 
with  blue.  The  remote  hills,  no  longer  vague  in  the 
trembling  heat,  stood  forth  as  clear-cut  purple  islands 
against  the  light  green  western  sky.  There  was  no 
flying  dust  nor  flurrying  wind,  but  all  was  calm,  silent, 
and  reposeful. 

In  the  clear,  cool  morning  of  the  following  day  the 
journey  was  resumed,  still  over  the  flat  desert,  whose 
surface  is  red,  incredibly  smooth,  and  hard,  like  the 
surface  of  a  baked  brick.  The  hills  near  and  far  were 
again  flooded  about  their  base  with  mirage,  from 
which  they  were  reflected  as  from  the  waters  of  a  rip- 
pled lake.  Even  the  blueness  of  the  distant  slopes 
appeared  in  the  reflection,  contrasting  with  the  brown 
of  those  nearer  at  hand.  Among  my  fellow-travellers 
was  a  man,  typical  of  many  Europeans  one  meets 
in  South  America — a  hardened  adventurer  of  twenty 
to  thirty  years'  experience,  who  had  come  out  originally 
on  some  particular  job,  full  of  energy  and  hope,  and 
meaning  only  to  stay  a  year  or  two,  but  who  had  re- 
mained on,  turning  his  hand  to  one  thing  and  another, 
never  very  successful,  often  almost  ruined,  till  the 
hopes  of  ever  seeing  home  again  had  faded  away 
with  the  memory  of  the  friends  of  his  youth  and  the 
habits  and  almost  the  language  of  the  country  of  his 
birth.     South  America  had  laid  its  hand  upon  him; 

335 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

all  his  enthusiasms  were  gone,  and  even  a  temporary 
success  no  longer  sufficed  to  overcome  the  settled 
sadness  of  his  habit  of  mind.  He  had  lost  energy 
and  initiative,  so  he  told  me,  and  was  content,  whenever 
possible  (in  the  manner  of  the  country),  to  put  off  till 
to-morrow  anything  that  he  could  avoid  doing  to- 
day. He  had  worked  in  the  Argentine,  in  Chile,  in 
Bolivia,  in  Peru,  and  was  a  mine  of  reminiscence  of 
strange  adventure.  Withal,  there  had  developed  in 
him  that  kindliness  of  heart  and  gentleness  of  de- 
meanor which  is  one  of  the  charms  of  South  America, 
expressing  itself  in  ready  exchange  of  cocktails  and  in 
other  acts  of  hospitality. 

The  line  crossed  the  salt,  white-banked  Rio  Grande, 
which  creeps  to  its  death  in  a  saline  swamp.  Hour 
after  hour  the  sameness  of  the  scenery  continued, 
yet  without  monotony  to  a  new-comer.  The  rail- 
road led  on  in  long  stretches,  so  that,  looking  forward 
or  back  when  the  air  was  clear,  the  traveller  saw  it 
disappear  in  the  distance  by  the  mere  curvature  of 
the  earth.  More  generally  in  the  hot  hours  of  mid- 
day it  vanished  into  mirage.  Out  of  the  feigned  water 
there  rose  the  smoke  of  the  freight-train  that  was  fol- 
lowing us,  like  the  smoke  of  a  steamer  on  the  horizon. 
The  only  thing  that  altered  was  the  texture  of  the 
desert  surface,  white  or  gray,  rough  or  smooth,  barren 
or  sprinkled  with  tussocks  of  grass.  Not  a  bird 
hovered  over  it,  not  a  man  stumbled  along  it,  never 
a  house  came  in  view,  seldom  a  track,  or  even  a  vicuna. 
At  last  we  entered  the  volcanic  mountain  district  of 
the  Western  Cordillera,  and,  crossing  the  Chilean 
frontier,  stopped  for  lunch  at  Ollague  (12,126  feet). 

336 


ORURO   TO    THE    PACIFIC 

A  volcano,  puffing  white  steam  in  small  jets  from  its 
lofty  crater,  rose  above  the  station,  with  a  small  crater 
at  its  foot,  whereon  was  fashioned  in  enormous  letters 
the  words  ''  Viva  Chile/'  All  the  hills  and  the  ground 
beneath  them,  utterly  bare  of  vegetation,  were  red 
or  yellow  in  color,  or  of  white  ashes  dotted  over  with 
black  cinders. 

From  this  point  on,  for  about  two  hundred  kilo- 
metres, the  journey  was  most  exciting;  for  the  train 
wandered  in  and  out  among  volcanoes,  streams  of 
lava,  and  large  level  sheets  of  saline  deposit  like  frozen 
lakes  covered  with  snow.  Most  of  the  volcanoes  were 
extinct,  but  some,  notably  Carcote,  retained  the  per- 
fection of  their  form — wide,  infinitely  graceful  pyra- 
mids outlined  with  a  pure  unbroken  curve  against  the 
blue  sky.  The  surface  of  the  hills  was  often  colored 
in  the  most  brilliant  fashion  imaginable ;  and  the  con- 
trast of  these  rich  colors  and  forms,  rising  beyond 
and  apparently  out  of  the  large,  flat,  grayish-white 
surface  of  the  saline  deposits,  was  most  beautiful. 
One  of  the  white  lakes  was  framed  in  a  margin  of 
black  volcanic  dust  and  cinders  merging  upward  into 
gray  sand.  White  dust-whirlpools  were  dancing  on 
its  white  floor.  A  broken  hill  near  by  revealed 
streaks  of  blood-red,  chrome-yellow,  and  I  know  not 
what  other  colors.  Amid  such  surroundings  the  en- 
gine laboriously  dragged  us  up  to  the  station  of  As- 
cotan  (13,010  feet),  the  highest  point  on  the  line, 
whence,  running  faster  down-hill  in  many  a  sinuous 
curve,  it  brought  us  round  the  base  of  the  smoking 
volcano  San  Pedro  (17,170  feet). 

At  its  foot  was  a  smaller  cone,  named  Porufia,  from 
Y  337 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

which  there  stretched  to  a  distance  of  two  or  three 
miles  an  astonishing  flow  of  lava,  lying  on  the  sandy 
desert  as  though  newly  poured  out,  and  looking  for 
all  the  world  like  a  big  glacier,  with  steep  sides  and 
snout,  and  the  surface  much  crevassed,  all  buried  in 
moraine.  The  railway  is  carried  through  this  lava- 
flow  in  a  remarkable  cutting.  With  this  strange 
product  of  volcanic  convulsion  for  foreground,  and 
volcanoes  small  and  great  towering  up  behind,  San 
Pedro's  crest  smoking  over  all,  I  thought  I  had  never 
beheld  a  more  weird  and  inhuman  scene.  If  a  man 
could  be  suddenly  transported  to  the  surface  of  the 
moon,  near  Aristarcus  or  Gassendi,  such,  I  imagine, 
would  be  the  landscape  that  would  salute  his  eyes. 
Over  against  these  mountains  there  rose  on  the  other 
side  of  the  valley  a  many-colored  hill,  the  Cerro  Col- 
orado, covered,  they  say,  with  magnetic  sand,  which 
leaps  into  the  air  and  flies  about  in  sheets  and  masses 
when  a  thunder-storm  passes  over  it,  to  the  standing 
horror  of  the  local  Indians.  At  such  a  moment,  amid 
the  roar  of  thunder  and  the  electric  flashes,  surrounded 
by  a  desert  shaken  by  earthquakes  and  dotted  over 
with  cinders,  with  this  dancing  fiend  of  a  hill  close  at 
hand,  ignorant  people  must,  indeed,  imagine  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  a  horde  of  combating  fiends. 

A  little  farther  on  we  crossed  the  red  canyon  of  the 
Rio  Loa,  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet  deep.  I  stood 
at  the  edge  of  this  deep  meandering  cut,  when  the  low 
sun  struck  full  on  one  face  of  it  and  a  dark  shadow 
fell  from  the  other,  and  looked  across  a  great  flat  plain 
towards  countless  volcanic  hills,  many  of  them  per- 
fectly symmetrical  in  form  and  shining  in  the  mellow 

338 


LAVA    STREAM    ON    THE    I'AMPA 


VOLCANO    AND   SALT-PLAUs^   NEAR   UYUNI 


OF  THE     "^  X 

OF 


ORURO    TO    THE    PACIFIC 

evening  light.  The  sunset  hour  is  the  time  to  enjoy 
this  clean  landscape,  as  of  the  moon,  enriched  by  the 
world's  fair  atmosphere,  when  shadows  steal  across 
the  flat  and  climb  the  crimson  hills,  driving  their  color 
up  to  the  soft,  still  clouds  till  it  fades  in  the  purple  pomp 
of  oncoming  night. 

That  evening  we  put  up  at  the  Grand  Central  Hotel  ( !) 
of  Calama  (7435  feet),  kept  by  a  Dalmatian  from 
Lissa,  who  was  full  of  talk  about  Tegethof  and  the  great 
sea-fight.  Calama  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  large 
oasis,  artificially  irrigated  with  the  waters  of  the  Loa, 
but  it  is  wretchedly  cultivated,  and  the  main  crop  of 
many  of  the  fields  was  weeds.  Next  day  we  con- 
tinued our  journey  down  to  the  sea.  Already  at  Ca- 
lama we  were  conscious  of  being  in  a  thicker  atmos- 
phere, and  the  sensation  of  atmospheric  weight  grew 
upon  us  from  hour  to  hour.  We  traversed  alternately 
through  hills  and  over  plains,  each  flat  being  at  a 
lower  level  from  the  one  before — steps  of  the  great  stair- 
case that  goes  down  from  the  high  plateau  to  the  sea. 
But  the  hills  were  no  longer  all  volcanic.  An  hour 
or  two  beyond  Calama  the  line  was  carried  through 
a  cutting  made  in  scljists.  During  the  morning  we 
crossed  the  southern  tropic  and  entered  the  so-called 
temperate  regions;  but  the  change,  as  far  as  we  were 
concerned,  was  only  marked  by  an  hourly  increment 
of  heat,  for  our  diminution  of  altitude  far  more  than 
compensated  for  our  steadily  increasing  distance  from 
the  equator. 

Ever  since  entering  Chile,  I  had  been  struck  by  en- 
countering white  laborers  working  on  the  line.  With 
Bolivia  we  had  left  behind  the  predominance  of  the 

339 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

Indian.  The  visible  evidence  of  the  patriotism  of 
Chile,  which  the  inscription,  ''Viva  Chile/'  on  the 
frontier  volcano  had  first  proclaimed,  was  shown 
from  mile  to  mile  by  the  numbers  of  Chilean  badges 
painted  or  scratched  on  every  prominent  rock.  The 
forms  of  the  hills  grew  less  remarkable  and  more  worn 
down  and  rounded  as  we  advanced.  There  were  no 
longer  the  white  saline  flats;  their  place  was  taken 
by  nitrate  fields,  being  actively  worked,  especially  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Salinas  Station  (4400  feet), 
which  stands  by  a  big  nitrate  establishment.  So 
easy  are  the  gradients  of  this  line,  and  so  little  does 
the  type  of  scenery  change,  that  it  was  only  by  the  in- 
creasing heat  (91°  Fahr.  at  noon  in  the  railway  car- 
riage) and  the  heavier  air  that  we  felt  we  were  descend- 
ing. The  hills  now  became  more  and  more  like  Dutch 
dunes.  A  gale  of  wind  sprang  up,  carrying  the  salt 
dust  hither  and  thither.  At  last  we  entered  a  dry, 
winding  river  gorge,  the  scenery  of  which  was  some- 
times almost  grand.  At  the  ninth  kilometre  post  a 
little  damp  oozed  through  the  bed  of  the  valley,  giving 
life  to  vivid  green  weeds  and  moss.  A  little  farther 
on  the  ocean  burst  into  view,  dazzling  bright,  and 
a  few  moments  later  we  had  rounded  the  corner  and 
were  going  along  the  shore  of  the  Pacific,  the  sand- 
slopes  of  the  hills  merging  without  change  into  the 
sandy  beach  and  sinking  beneath  the  waves,  the  whole 
hill-side,  as  it  were,  a  sandy  shore  tipped  up  to  the  back- 
bone of  the  continent. 

Wonderfully  beautiful  seemed  the  Antofagasta 
Bay,  curving  round  to  a  fine  mountain  promontory 
like  a  mild  Gibraltar,  girt  with  cloud  and  bathed  in 

340 


ORURO   TO   THE    PACIFIC 

bright  gray  atmosphere.  In  the  midst  lay  the  large 
town,  with  a  vanguard  of  ships  at  anchor.  Antofa- 
gasta  is  the  prettiest  town  I  had  seen  since  we  left 
Panama :  clean,  wide-streeted,  with  houses  suggestive 
of  India,  and  verandas  furnished  with  long-armed 
chairs.  The  people,  as  I  saw  them,  were  frank  and 
hospitable.  I  was  carried  off  to  dinner  at  the  club 
and  shown  the  sights  of  the  place.  In  the  midst  of  the 
pretty  square  is  a  garden  plentifully  irrigated  by  some 
of  the  admirable  water  brought  to  the  town  from  a 
distance  of  three  hundred  kilometres.  Here,  as  at 
Uyuni,  the  church  was  a  small  edifice  of  no  archi- 
tectural pretensions ;  it  would  have  looked  mean  beside 
the  Spanish  grandeur  of  one  of  the  mud-built  churches 
of  a  mere  Bolivian  finca.  I  had  not  been  an  hour  in 
the  place  before  I  heard  the  clear  note  of  Chilean 
patriotism,  sounding  as  plainly  in  the  conversation 
of  men  of  English  or  Scotch  descent  as  in  that  of  the 
Spanish  Chilean.  The  whole  place  had  an  air  of 
prosperity:  good  shops  and  fine  houses  of  business, 
mostly  built  of  wood  and  corrugated  iron.  The  town- 
clock  receives  the  correct  hour  daily  by  cable,  and  the 
general  amenities  of  modern  civilization  are  provided. 
The  hotel  was  properly  drained  and  fitted  with  excellent 
baths,  the  rooms  were  well  furnished,  and  there  was 
real  milk  wherewith  to  civilize  one's  tea,  not  merely 
the  condensed  nastiness  which  serves  the  purpose  of 
milk  farther  north.  The  steamer  from  Valparaiso 
came  in  during  the  night.  By  noon  of  the  following 
day  we  had  sailed  away  over  a  calm  sea  and  beneath 
a  cloudy  sky. 
Of  the  remainder  of  my  journey  this  is  not  the  place 

341 


THE    BOLIVIAN    ANDES 

to  write.  How  we  landed  at  Valparaiso  and  ascended  to 
the  summit  of  Aconcagua,  how  we  navigated  Smyth's 
Sound  and  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  how  we  climbed 
in  Tierra  del  Fuego  and  galloped  over  the  plains  of 
Patagonia — these  are  other  stories  which  I  have  re- 
lated elsewhere.  The  purpose  of  this  book  is  to  give 
some  description  of  the  mountains  and  high  plateaus 
of  Bolivia,  the  least  known  of  all  South  American 
countries  to  the  remainder  of  the  civilized  world.  That 
purpose  accomplished,  I  gladly  lay  down  my  pen. 
At  the  moment  of  death  it  is  said  that  the  whole  of 
a  man's  past  life  leaps  into  view  in  his  memory.  So 
now,  at  the  final  moment  of  writing,  I  seem  to  behold, 
in  one  panorama,  those  splendid  mountains,  those  wide 
plains  and  glorious  scenes  on  which  my  eye  rested  as 
they  passed  in  the  long  procession  of  travel;  yet  my 
last  thought  is  not  so  much  of  them  as  of  the  men  of 
many  races  who  gave  me  their  help  and  friendship 
by  the  way.  To  them,  there  on  the  margin  of  the  civ- 
ilized world,  working  out  their  share  of  the  future 
destinies  of  mankind,  I  wave  a  last  adieu! 


APPENDIX 


A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  MINERAL  SPECIMENS 

BROUGHT  FROM  BOLIVIA   BY   SIR 

W.  MARTIN  CONWAY 

By  L.  J.  Spencer,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

The  forty-six  mineral  specimens  brought  from  Bolivia 
by  Sir  W.  Martin  Conway  were  sent  to  the  British  Museum 
for  examination  and  determination;  they  are  now  pre^ 
served  in  the  collection  of  the  Mineral  Department. 

Most  of  the  specimens  are  from  a  tin  and  bismuth 
mine  on  the  mountain  of  Huaina  Potosi  near  La  Paz, 
and  from  the  silver  and  tin  mines  at  Oruro.  A  few  other 
specimens  are  from  the  Pulacayo  mine  near  Huanchaca  and 
from  Carangas.  In  the  following  description  the  speci- 
mens from  each  of  these  localities  will  be  taken  in  turn. 

Of  special  interest  are  the  complicated  twin-crystals  of 
stannite;  the  occurrence  of  the  rare  minerals  augelite  and 
wolfsbergite  at  a  new  locality;  the  frequent  occurrence 
of  andorite ;  and  the  association  of  fluor-spar  with  Bolivian 
tin-stone. 

L  Specimens  from  Huaina  Potosi,  near  La  Paz 
Native  Bismuth  and  Bismuthite  (Sulphide  of  bismuth. 

These,  showing  large,  bright  cleavage  surfaces,  occur 
associated  together.  On  some  of  the  specimens  bismuthite 
is  associated  with  cassiterite  and  pyrites. 

343 


APPENDIX 

Cassiterite  (Oxide  of  tin,  SnOg.     Tetragonal). 

The  collection  contains  several  specimens  of  much  the 
same  character:  two  are  labelled  Chacaltaya,  Huaina 
Potosi ;  the  others  are  from  the  Huaina  Potosi  mine. 

The  specimens  are  compact  to  fine  grained  in  texture, 
and  light  to  dark  brown  in  color ;  they  are  often  iron-stain- 
ed. Except  for  the  heaviness  (specific  gravity)  of  the 
specimens  there  would  be  nothing  to  suggest  on  a  casual 
examination  that  the  material  was  cassiterite.  Cavities 
are  lined  with  minute,  very  indistinct  crystals  of  cassiterite ; 
these  are  light  to  dark  brown  and  translucent  to  opaque. 
Quartz,  pyrites,  and  sometimes  bismuthite  are  present  in 
small  amounts,  mixed  with  the  massive  cassiterite.  In 
one  specimen  the  grains  of  cassiterite  are  embedded  in  a 
dirty  green  chloritic  substance.  A  thin  section  of  this 
specimen  shows  under  the  microscope  an  iron-stained 
aggregate  of  cassiterite,  chlorite,  and  quartz ;  the  cassiter- 
ite grains  are  frequently  twinned. 

The  most  coarsely  crystallized  specimen  is  labelled 
Chacaltaya;  it  shows  in  the  cavities  dark  crystals  of  cas- 
siterite I  to  2  mm.  across.  These  crystals  interpenetrate 
each  other  and  are  difi&cult  to  decipher;  the  faces  are 
very  uneven  and  curved.  Sometimes  what  are  apparent- 
ly hexagonal  pyramids  can  be  distinguished.  Measure- 
ments show  that  these  are  really  groups  of  six  crystals 
twinned  together  in  such  a  manner  that  the  principal 
crystallographic  axes  and  the  twin  axes  of  all  the  individ- 
uals lie  in  the  same  plane.  The  form  present  is  the  deeply 
striated  prism  m  (no),  with  very  narrow  planes  of  the 
form  a  (lOO)  on  a  few  of  the  edges.  In  Fig.  i,  the  six  in- 
dividuals are  marked  m^  .  .  .  Wg ;  of  these,  mi  is  placed 
in  the  normal  position,  with  the  prism  edge  and  the  stria- 
tions  vertical.  The  second  and  sixth  crystals  are  twinned 
on  (loi)  and  (ioi)  respectively  of  the  first  crystal;  the  fifth 
and  sixth  are  in  twin  position  with  respect  to  the  fourth 
and  first  respectively,  but  not  with  respect  to  each  other. 
This  type  of  repeated  twinning  with  the  twin  axes  all  in 
the  same  plane  is  frequent  in  rutile,  but  rare  in  cassiterite. 

344 


APPENDIX 

Fluor ite  (Calcium  fluoride,  CaFg.     Cubic). 

On  the  most  coarsely  crystallized  specimen  of  cassiterite, 
from  Chacaltaya,  Huaina  Potosi,  mentioned  above,  are 
fairly  large  crystals  of  quartz,  with  limonite,  and  a  group, 
about  I  cm.  across,  of  corroded  crystals  of  white  fluor-spar. 
The  crystals  appear  to  be  octahedra,  and  they  have  a 
perfect  octahedral  cleavage,  the  cleavage  angle  being 
measured  as  71°  and  10954°.  The  specific  gravity  and 
hardness  are  those  of  fluorite.  The  material  is  optically 
isotropic,  and  the  index  of  refraction  was  determined  with 
a  cleavage  prism  to  be  approximately  1.44.  When  the 
material  was  heated  with  sulphuric  acid,  the  sides  of  a 
glass  tube  were  etched,  and  crystals  of  gypsum  were  ob- 
served under  the  microscope.  These  details  of  the  de- 
termination are  given  since  fluorite  is  of  very  rare  occur- 
rence in  Bolivia,  and  its  association  with  the  tin-stone 
of  this  region  has  been  doubted. 


II.  Specimens  from  Oruro 

The  matrix  of  one  or  two  specimens  is  an  altered  vol- 
canic rock  or  ash  with  kaolinite  and  blebs  of  quartz.  On 
another  specimen  the  matrix  is  slate,  and  on  another  blue 
clay.  Most  of  the  specimens  are  from  the  San  Jos6  mine; 
from  the  Tetilla  and  Atocha  mines  there  is  one  specimen 
each. 

Augelite  (Basic  phosphate  of  aluminium,  AIPO4,  A1(0H)3. 
Monoclinic). 

The  massive  mineral  from  Westana,  Sweden,  described 
in  1868  under  the  name  augelite,  and  found  on  analysis 
to  have  the  chemical  composition  AIPO4,  A1(0H)3,  was 
not  considered  to  be  a  well-established  mineral  species 
until  crystals  from  Bolivia  were  discovered  in  1895.*  These 
crystals  were  from  Machacamarca,  near  Potosi.     More  re- 

*  G.  T.  Prior  and  L.  J.  Spencer,  "Augelite,"  Mineralogical  Mag- 
azine, 1895,  vol.  xi.,  p.  16. 

345 


APPENDIX 

cently*  crystals  of  augelite  have  been  found  at  a  second 
Bolivian  locality,  namely,  in  the  mines  between  Tatasi 
and  Potugalete,  Department  Potosi.  The  present  descrip- 
tion of  crystals  from  Oruro  adds  another  to  the  three  local- 
ities at  which  augelite  has  hitherto  been  found. 

The  single  specimen  from  Oruro  on  which  crystals  of 
augelite  have  been  found  has  the  whole  of  the  free  sur- 
face, measuring  about  28  x  2^  cm.,  covered  with  crystals 
of  augelite,  mispickel,  quartz,  pyrites,  and  stannite;  there 
are  also  some  kaolinite  and  minute  yellow  globules  of 
cervantite(?)  incrusting  most  of  the  other  minerals.  It 
was  not  possible  to  determine  with  certainty  the  order  of 
formation  of  these  minerals :  the  quartz,  however,  clearly 
belongs  to  two  generations,  there  being  small  crystals 
on  the  matrix,  and  very  much  smaller  crystals  incrusting 
most  of  the  other  minerals.  The  matrix  of  the  specimen 
consists  of  massive  quartz,  pyrites,  and  tetrahedrite.  Cavi- 
ties at  the  back  of  the  specimen  contain  crystals  of  wolfs- 
bergite,  andorite,  and  stannite. 

In  themselves  the  crystals  of  augelite  do  not  differ  from 
those  previously  described,  but  the  associated  minerals 
are  not  the  same.  The  well-developed  crystals  are  2  to  4 
mm.  across,  and  are  present  in  large  numbers,  so  that 
this  is  by  far  the  best  specimen  of  augelite  that  has  yet 
been  found.  The  crystals  are  colorless  and  transparent, 
but  usually  appear  to  be  yellow  and  opaque,  owing  to  the 
surface  incrustation  of  cervantite(?).  In  habit  they  are 
tabular  parallel  to  the  basal  plane  c  (001) ;  the  forms  m  (no) 
and  ^  (loi)  are  also  largely  developed  (Fig.  2,  p.  351).  Five 
crystals  were  measured  on  the  goniometer,  but  the  only 
other  forms  observed  were  n(ii2)  and  0(112),  which  are 
rarely  present  as  narrow  faces.  The  cleavages,  angular 
measurements,  specific  gravity,  and  optical  characters  of 
the  crystals  are  in  agreement  with  previous  descriptions, 
and  need  not,  therefore,  be  given  in  detail. 

*  L.  J.  Spencer,  "Augelite  from  a  New  Locality  in  Bolivia,"  Mifi' 
eralogical  Magazine,  1898,  vol.  xii.,  p.  i. 


APPENDIX 

Stannite  (A  sulphur  compound  of  copper,  iron,  and 
tin,  Cu2FeSnS4.     Tetragonal). 

This  mineral  has  long  been  known  from  Cornwall,  and 
has  been  found  at  a  few  other  localities,  but  until  recently 
distinct  crystals  which  were  certainly  stannite  have  not 
been  described.  At  various  times  the  crystalline  system 
has  been  considered  to  be  orthorhombic,  cubic,  cubic- 
tetrahedral,  and  tetragonal.  Recently  Prof.  A.  W.  Stelz- 
ner  '•'  has  described  crystals  from  Potosi,  Bolivia,  of  which 
the  symmetry  is  given  as  cubic-tetrahedral.  Blowpipe  tests 
made  on  these  crystals  showed  them  to  consist  of  copper, 
iron,  tin,  and  sulphur,  but  a  quantitative  chemical  anal- 
ysis was  only  made  on  the  accompanying  massive  ma- 
terial. 

The  crystals  of  stannite  from  Oruro  now  to  be  described 
do  not  altogether  agree  with  Stelzner's  observations.  They 
are  tetragonal,  but  by  twinning  they  give  rise  to  pseudo- 
cubic  crystals.!  An  analysis  of  these  crystals  has  been 
made  by  Mr.  G.  T.  Prior;  this  analysis,  which  confirms 
the  usually  accepted  formula  for  stannite,  is  the  first 
that  has  been  made  on  crystallized  material.  Crystallized 
stannite  from  Oruro  has  been  previously  mentioned  by 
d'Orbigny,!  but  this  has  been  doubted  by  Stelzner.§  The 
numerous  crystals  which  are  present  on  at  least  four  of 
Sir  Martin  Conway's  specimens  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  stannite  is  by  no  means  a  rare  mineral  at  this  locality. 

A  brief  description  is  given  below  of  each  of  these  four 

*  "  Die  Silber-Zinnerzlagerstatten  Bolivias,"  Zeitschr.  deutschen  geo- 
hgischen  Gesellschaft,  1897,  vol.  xlix.,  pp.  97,  131. 

t  Since  the  present  account  was  written,  in  1899,  the  crystals  have 
been  further  studied  and  found  to  possess  scalenohedral-tetragonal 
symmetry,  with  the  angular  element  cd  =  44°  30' ;  twinning  on  the 
first  law  gives  rise  to  pseudcntetrahedral-cubic  symmetry.  A  detailed 
account  has  been  prepared  for  publication  in  the  Mineralogical  Maga- 
zine, 1901,  vol.  xiii.,  under  the  title  "  Crystallized  Stannite  from  Bo- 
livia." 

}  A.  d'Orbigny,  "  Voyage  dans  1' Am6rique  m6ridionale,  1826—1833/' 
vol.  iii.,  part  3  (Geology),  1842,  p.  129. 

§  Loc.  cit. ,  p.  86. 

347 


APPENDIX 

specimens,  since  the  associated  minerals  are  somewhat  dif- 
ferent in  each  case. 

1.  The  best  specimen  consists  of  radiated  groups  of 
prismatic  crystals  of  mispickel  on  which  are  a  few  crystals 
of  andorite  and  pyrites.  Incrusting  all  three  minerals 
is  the  stannite,  which  occurs  abundantly  as  crystalline 
crusts  and  as  isolated  crystals.  It  is  the  crystals  from 
this  specimen  which  were  most  completely  examined  and 
analyzed,  and  on  which  the  description  given  below  is 
based. 

2.  This  is  the  augelite  specimen  described  above.  The 
associated  crystallized  minerals  are  augelite,  mispickel, 
quartz,  pyrites,  andorite,  and  wolfsbergite,  and  there  are 
also  tetrahedrite,  kaolinite,  and  cervantite(?).  The  stan- 
nite  is  one  of  the  latest -formed  minerals.  On  the  front 
of  the  specimen  it  occurs  as  black  drusy  crusts  of  minute 
crystals,  the  form  of  which  cannot  be  made  out  even  under 
the  microscope.  A  qualitative  chemical  examination  by 
Mr.  G.  T.  Prior,  however,  showed  the  presence  of  copper, 
iron,  tin,  and  sulphur,  so  that  this  material  is  without 
doubt  stannite.  On  parts  of  the  specimen  where  the 
material  is  more  coarsely  crystallized,  the  characteristic 
twinning  described  below  can  sometimes  be  distinguished. 
One  good  twin-crystal  of  stannite  was  found  on  a  crystal 
of  andorite  in  a  cavity  at  the  back  of  the  specimen. 

3.  This  is  a  large  piece  of  massive  tetrahedrite,  with 
massive  quartz  and  pyrites.  In  cavities  are  crystals  of 
stannite,  wolfsbergite,  andorite,  quartz,  and  pyrites.  One 
cavity  is  almost  completely  lined  with  bronze  -  colored 
crystals  of  stannite;  these  are  about  a  millimetre  across, 
and  are  confusedly  grown  together,  forming  a  crust.  The 
bronze  color  is  only  due  to  a  superficial  tarnish,  the  crystals 
being  black  in  the  interior.  The  faces  are  bright,  but  the 
crystals  are  so  intergrown  that  it  was  not  possible  to  com- 
pletely determine  the  crystalline  form ;  several  cubic  angles 
were  measured,  and  in  general  the  appearance  of  the 
crystals  is  the  same  as  those  on  specimen  No.  I.  A  chemi- 
cal examination  by  Mr.  G.  T.  Prior  showed  the  presence 

348 


APPENDIX 

of  copper,  iron,  tin,  and  sulphur.  In  other  cavities  are  a 
few  of  the  black  crystals  of  stannite  with  the  pseudo-cubic 
forms  figured  below. 

4.  An  aggregate  of  jamesonite  needles,  incrusted  with 
small  crystals  of  pyrites  and  stannite.  The  stannite 
crystals  are  black,  and  some  of  the  larger  ones  show  the 
complex  twinning. 

The  following  description  of  the  crystallographic,  phys- 
ical, and  chemical  characters  of  the  crystals  of  stannite 
is  based  on  an  examination  of  the  first  specimen. 

The  numerous  small  crystals,  averaging  about  i  to  1.5 
mm.  across,  are  irregularly  aggregated  and  intergrown 
together,  so  that  only  portions  of  single  crystals  can  be 
observed.  Of  the  ten  crystals  measured  on  the  goniometer, 
only  one  was  apparently  a  simple  crystal  (Fig.  3),  and 
even  this  was  afterwards  found  to  show  a  twin  lamella 
with  o(lii)  as  twin-plane;  since  this  crystal  was,  as  is 
usually  the  case,  partly  embedded  and  intergrown  with 
other  crystals,  it  was  probably  only  a  portion  of  a  twin- 
crystal.  The  approximate  measurements  of  the  angles 
on  this  and  other  crystals  agreed  closely  with  those  re- 
quired for  a  cubic  crystal,  while  the  striations  and  charac- 
ters of  the  faces  agreed  only  with  tetragonal  symmetry. 
The  forms  noticed  on  the  crystals  measured  are,  in  order 
of  predominance : 

c(ooi).  Bright  and  smooth. 

m(iio).  Deeply  striated  horizontally.  The  striae  reflect 
light  with  the  adjacent  faces  of  o  (ill). 

d{ioi).  Often  bright  and  smooth,  but  also  striated  hori- 
zontally, especially  when  e(20i)  is  present. 

n(ii2).  Bright;  faintly  striated  parallel  to  its  intersec- 
tion with  c(ooi). 

e{20i).  Deeply  striated  horizontally.  The  striae  reflect 
light  in  the  positions  of  d  (lOi)  and  a  (lOO). 

o(iii).  Narrow;  bright  and  smooth. 

a  (100).  Only  represented  by  striae  on  e  (201). 

fi(ii4).  Narrow,  deeply  striated  planes  on  the  edge  be- 
tween n  and  c. 

349 


APPENDIX 

/)(423).  Two  minute  bright  faces  in  the  zone  [201,  iii^ 
021].  Measured  to  o  15°  9'  and  15°  (calculated  for  a  cubic 
crystal  15°  I35^'). 

Of  the  tetragonal  forms  given  above 

d  and  m  correspond  to  d(iio)  of  cubic  crystals 
c     "     a  "         "    a  (100) 

and  the  others  have  the  same  indices  as  the  corresponding 
cubic  forms. 

The  crystals  are  not  suitable  for  accurate  measurement, 
and  the  angles  obtained  varied  almost  30'  on  either  side  of 
cubic  angles.  For  example,  for  cd  was  measured  44° 
34',  44°  59',  45°  2',  45°  9',  etc.,  and  for  co  54°  16',  54°  34'; 
the  corresponding  cubic  angles  being  45°  and  54°  44'  respec- 
tively. On  the  whole  these  angles  seem  to  be  slightly 
less  than  the  corresponding  cubic  angles :  the  vertical 
axis  c  would  then  be,  as  in  copper-pyrites,  slightly  shorter 
than  the  lateral  axes  a. 

The  most  interesting  feature  of  the  stannite  crystals 
is  the  twinning,  which  takes  place  according  to  two  laws : 
(i.)    Twin  plane  (i( 1 01). 
(ii.)  Twin  plane  o(iii). 

The  first  law  is  illustrated  by  Figs.  4-6,  p.  351.  The  sim- 
ple crystal  (Fig.  4),  when  twinned  on  (on)  or  (oil),  gives 
the  interpenetrating  doublet  shown  in  Fig.  5.  When  the 
twinning  also  takes  place  on  the  homologous  plane  (loi) 
or  (lOl),  the  three  interpenetrating  individuals  produce 
a  figure  (Fig.  6)  closely  resembling  a  regular  rhombic 
dodecahedron.  In  each  octant  three  planes  of  the  tetrag- 
onal pyramid  o(ili)  become  almost  co-planar,  and  cor- 
respond to  the  regular  octahedron.  These  faces  bound 
the  edges  of  deep  triangular  pits  formed  by  the  three  faces 
of  the  basal  plane  c(ooi),  which  in  the  twinned  position 
are  approximately  parallel  to  the  three  faces  of  the  cube. 
The  prism  faces  m(iio)  of  the  simple  crystals  form  the 
faces  of  the  rhombic  dodecahedron  in  the  pseudo-cubic 
crystal.  The  edges  of  this  pseudo-dodecahedron  are 
replaced  by  V-shaped  grooves  formed  by  the  faces  of 
d  (lOi).      Each    dodecahedral    face    (m)    is    very   nearly 

350 


BOLIVIAN  MINERALS 


FIG.  I 


FIG.  2 


FIG.  3 


FIG.  4 


FIG.  5 


FIG.  6 


L.  J.  Sfbncer  dtl. 

Explanation  of  Plate 

Fig.  I.  Cassiterite  from  Chacaltaya,  Huaina  Potosi.  Six  crystals  twinned,  together  pro- 
ducing a  pseudo-hexagonal  bipyramid.     The  only  form  present  is  m  (no).     (Page  344.) 

Fig.  2.  Augelite  from  Oruro.     Forms  :  c  (001),  nt  (no),  x  (loi).     (Page  346.) 

Fig.  3.  Stannite  from  San  Jose  Mine,  Oruro.  Simple  tetragonal  crystal  with  the  forms 
c(ooi),  m  (iio),fi?(ioi),  «  (112),  o  (iii),e  (201).     (Page  349.) 

Fig.  4.  Do.     Simple  tetragonal  crystal  with  the  forms  c  (001),  m  (no),  d  (loi),  o  (in). 

Fig.  5.  Do.     Two  interpenetrating  crystals,  like  Fig.  4,  twinned  on  (on). 

Fig.  6.  Do.  Three  interpenetrating  crystals,  like  Fig.  4,  twinned  on  (on)  and  (loi),  pro- 
ducing  a  pseudo-cubic  crystal.     (Pages  350,  352,  353.) 


APPENDIX 

parallel  to  the  faces  (d)  in  the  opposite  sides  of  the  four 
grooves  adjacent  to  it;  but  the  striations  on  these  planes, 
which  are  nearly  parallel  (and  sometimes  nearly  co-planar), 
are  at  right  angles,  as  shown  in  Fig.  6.  The  fact  of  these 
striations  being  at  right  angles  shows  that  the  crystals 
are  not  cubic.  Usually,  owing  to  the  presence  of  e{20i), 
and  its  oscillation  with  d{ioi),  the  grooves  gradually 
widen  out  towards  the  pseudo-tetrad  axes. 

Doublets  as  represented  in  Fig.  5  are  rare,  but  crystals 
like  Fig.  6  are  common,  especially  on  specimen  No.  I. 
The  actual  crystals  are  often  almost  as  symmetrically 
and  regularly  developed  as  shown  in  the  figure,  and  in 
some  cases  they  are  developed  on  nearly  all  sides;  one 
crystal  showed  six  of  the  eight  possible  triangular  pits. 
These  twinned  crystals  bear  the  closest  resemblance  to 
cubic  crystals,  but  the  directions  of  the  striations  noted 
above  show  that  they  cannot  be  cubic.  This  is  also  sup- 
ported by  the  fact  that  the  faces  usually  give  double  or 
multiple  images,  indicating  that  the  different  portions  are 
not  quite  parallel ;  the  pseudo-octahedral  faces,  which,  as 
shown  in  the  figure,  are  represented  by  three  separate 
areas,  sometimes  give  three  very  distinct  images  arranged 
at  the  corners  of  an  equilateral  triangle. 

The  crystals  are  still  further  complicated  by  being  fre- 
quently twinned  according  to  the  second  law,  viz.,  with 
o  (ill)  as  twin-plane.  This  is  often  shown  by  the  presence 
of  twin-lamellae  running  through  the  crystals,  and  by  the 
interpenetration  of  the  pseudo-dodecahedra  in  the  same 
manner  as  previously  described  for  stanniferous  argy- 
rodite.**"*  This  twinning  gives  rise  to  two  sets  of  striae  inter- 
secting at  an  angle  of  about  70°  32'  on  the  pseudo-dode- 
cahedral  faces,  while  the  twinning  according  to  the  first 
law  gives  rise  to  two  sets  intersecting  at  about  90°.  These 
striae  intersecting  at  the  angles  of  about  70°  32'  and  90° 
are  to  be  observed  on  most  crystals. 

*  G.  T.  Prior  and  L.  J.  Spencer,  "  Stanniferous  Argyrodite  from 
Bolivia  .  .  .  /'  Mineralogical  Magazine,  1898,  vol.  xii.,  p.  7. 


APPENDIX 

It  may  be  noted  that  these  twin  planes,  (lOi)  and  (ill), 
are  the  same  as  those  in  copper-pyrites,  with  which  stannite 
appears  crystallographically  to  be  somewhat  related.  The 
habit  of  the  simple  crystals  of  stannite  is,  however,  more 
like  that  of  hauchecomite,  this  being  another  tetragonal 
mineral  with  very  nearly  cubic  angles. 

The  most  striking  analogy  to  these  pseudo-cubic  crystals 
(Fig.  6)  is  given  by  the  twins  of  phillipsite,  the  monoclinic 
crystals  of  which  build  up  the  pseudo-dodecahedra  de- 
scribed by  Kohler'  and  others.  The  optical  examination 
of  transparent  minerals  shows  that  such  composite  pseudo- 
cubic  crystals  are  of  frequent  occurrence:  the  rhombic 
dodecahedra  of  boracite,  garnet,  etc.,  are,  for  instance, 
found  to  be  built  up  of  twelve  optically  biaxial  crystals. 

Crystals  with  grooved  edges,  as  in  Fig.  6,  are  illustrated 
by  analcite,t  diamond,  and  haiiyne:  in  the  last  two  cases 
the  grooves  are  supposed  to  be  due  to  twinning,  while  in 
the  first  case  they  are  supposed  to  be  due  merely  to  parallel 
growth. 

As  regards  the  physical  characters  of  the  crystallized 
stannite,  the  following  may  be  noted.  The  color  is  iron- 
black,  with  a  bright  metallic  to  sub-adamantine  lustre, 
somewhat  resembling  black  blende.  On  one  specimen 
the  crystals  have  a  bronze-colored  tarnish,  which  is,  how- 
ever, only  superficial.  The  mineral  is  opaque.  The 
streak  is  black  and  dull.  The  crystals  are  not  very  brittle ; 
the  fracture  is  sub-conchoidal  to  uneven .  H=3  Yz .  Specific 
gravity=4.  45.I 

The  material  collected  for  analysis  consisted  mainly 
of  w^ell  -  developed  crystals  projecting  from  the  surface 
of  the  specimen,  but  some  of  the  underlying  crystalline 
material  was  also  collected  in  the  belief  that  it  was  also 

*  Poggendorff's  Annalen,  1836,  xxxvii.,  561 ;  Dana's  System  of  Min- 
eralogy, 1892,  6th  ed.,  p.  579,  figs.  3  and  4. 

t  Figures  of  these  are  given  in  Dana's  System  of  Mineralogy  and 
Text-book  of  Mineralogy. 

X  Calculated  from  the  specific  gravity  of  the  material  analyzed  (4.52), 
after  deducting  8.58  per  cent,  of  andorite  (sp.  gr.  5.35). 

z  353 


APPENDIX 

stannite;  the  latter,  however,  contained  some  andorite, 
as  suggested  by  the  results  of  the  analysis,  and  as  actually 
seen  to  be  the  case  upon  a  further  and  more  careful  ex- 
amination of  the  specimen.  The  results  of  Mr.  G.  T. 
Prior's  analyses  are  given  below  under  columns  L— V. 
Analysis  1.  was  made  on  0.3678  gram  of  material  which 
was  decomposed  with  nitric  acid;  in  II.,  0.4215  gram  was 
fused  with  sodium  carbonate  and  sulphur,  and  the  tin 
obtained  in  solution  as  sodium  sulpho-stannate ;  for  the 
sulphur  determination.  III.,  0.2233  gram  was  fused  with 
sodium  carbonate  and  potassium  nitrate.  The  mean  of 
these  analyses  is  given  under  IV.  Germanium  was  tested 
for,  but  found  to  be  absent. 


Atomic 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV.  (Mean) 

.  ratios. 

Cu 

28.58 

28.54 

28.56 

0.453 

Fe 

10.95 

10.90 

10.93 

0.197 

Sn 

25.52 

24.90 

25.21 

0.213 

Sb 

3.54 

3.88 

3.71 

0.031 

Pb 

2.02 

2.09 

2.06 

O.OIO 

Ag 

0.94 

0.82 

0.88 

0.008 

S 

27.83 

27.83 

0.874 

99.18 

The  atomic  ratios  of  Sb,  Pb,  and  Ag  are  approximately 
those  required  by  the  andorite  formula  PbAgSbgSe ;  and 
the  atomic  ratios  Cu:  Fe:  Sn:  remaining  S=.453:  .197: 
.213:  .814,  which  agree  approximately  with  the  formula 
Cu2FeSnS4  for  stannite;  the  copper,  however,  is  rather 
high.  Under  column  V.  below  is  given  the  percentage 
composition  of  the  stannite  after  deducting  all  the  anti- 
mony, lead,  and  silver,  and  the  required  amount  of  sulphur 
for  Sb2S3,  PbS,  AgaS.  Column  VI.  gives  the  calculated 
percentage  composition  required  by  the  formula  CugFeSnS*. 


V. 

VI. 

(CusFeSnS*), 

Cu 

31.52 

29.54 

Fe 

12.06 

13.01 

Sn 

27.83 

27.65 

S 

28.59 
100.00 

354 

29.80 
100.00 

APPENDIX 

This  analysis,  which  is  the  first  that  has  been  made  on 
crystalHzed  stannite,  therefore  supports  the  formula  usual- 
ly given  for  the  mineral,  namely,  Cu2FeSnS4^CuFeS2 + 
CuSnS2,  or  Fe2SnS4+Cu4SnS4. 

Andorite  (Sulph  -  antimonite  of  lead  and  silver, 
PbAgSbsSfi.     Orthorhombic) . 

This  mineral  has  recently  been  described  from  Oruro 
by  Profs.  Brogger  and  Stelzner  under  the  names  sund- 
tite  and  webnerite  respectively,  but  these  were  afterwards 
shown*  to  be  both  identical  with  the  Hungarian  mineral 
andorite  discovered  by  Prof.  Krenner  in  1892.  Although 
andorite  is  probably  not  a  rare  mineral  in  the  Oruro  mines, 
it  is  as  yet  represented  in  only  a  few  collections  by  one  or 
two  small  specimens.  New  material  is,  therefore,  worthy 
of  detailed  examination;  and  in  the  present  case  several 
new  crystal  forms  have  been  noted. 

Crystals  were  found  on  four  of  the  new  specimens : 

I.  On  the  mispickel  of  the  stannite  specimen  No.  i, 
from  the  San  Jos^  Mine,  described  above,  are  a  few  bright 
crystals  of  andorite  resembling  those  described  and  figured 
by  Prof.  Brogger.  They  are  sometimes  doubly  terminated, 
and  the  largest  is  about  4  mm.  long.  In  habit  they  are 
somewhat  tabular  parallel  to  the  macropinacoid  a  (100). 
Pyramids  and  domes  are  numerous,  but  are  very  irregularly 
developed,  so  that  the  crystals  are  usually  distorted  and 
unsymmetrical  in  appearance :  in  Figs.  7  and  8  the  crystals 
are  idealized  by  drawing  all  the  faces  of  the  same  form 
of  the  same  size.  A  prominent  feature  of  the  crystals 
is  the  marked  striations  on  all  the  faces,  as  illustrated  in 
Fig.  8 ;  in  some  zones  the  striations  are  often  so  deep  and 
numerous  as  to  render  the  crystals  scarcely  suitable  for 
measurement.  The  pyramids,  domes,  the  brachypinacoid 
b  (010),  and  the  prisms  u  (130),  g  (250),  and  k  (120),  are  all 
striated  horizontally;  the  macropinacoid  a  (100)  and  the 
remaining  prisms  are  striated  vertically,  with  a  few  hori- 

*  G.  T.  Prior  and  L.  J.  Spencer,  "  The  Identity  of  Andorite,  Sundtite, 
and  Webnerite,"  Mineralogical  Magazine,  1897,  vol.  xi.,  pp.  286-301. 

355 


APPENDIX 

zontal  striae,  especially  on  a  (lOO),  giving  rise  to  rectan- 
gular markings.  On  the  goniometer  these  striated  zones 
give  continuous  bands  of  reflected  images,  limited,  how- 
ever, between  certain  points :  in  the  prism  zone  between 
a  (lOO)  and  /  (230) ;  in  the  macrodome  zone  between  a  (100) 
and  h{i02) ;  in  the  brachydome  zone  between  6  (010)  and 
^(oii)  or  w?(035);  and  in  the  several  pyramid  zones  [hko, 
001]  the  bands  are  limited  between  the  zones  [001]  and 
[102,  010].  Near  the  summits  of  the  crystals  the  faces 
are  less  striated  and  the  bands  of  reflected  light  much 
fainter.  The  pyramid  zones  showing  such  bands  of  light 
are:  [310,001],  [210,  001],  [no,  001],  [230,  001],  [120,  001], 
and  [130,  001] ;  of  these  it  may  be  remarked  that  no  pyram- 
idal faces  have  yet  been  recorded  in  the  zone  [230,  001]. 

Three  crystals  were  measured  on  the  goniometer,  and 
the  following  thirty-five  forms  noted. 

Pinacoids :     o  100,  6  010,  c  001. 

Prisms :     n  210,  m  no,  Z  230,  k  120,  g  250,  u  130. 

Macrodomes :     h  102,  0-203,  /  loi,  e  302. 

Brachydomes:     woss,  xou,  y02i,  3^031,  »?04i. 

Pyramids:    ^312,   5 211,   A 321,    t;ii2      C243?      w  132 

X22S       a  364       /3i3i 
pill        ri2i      E261 
9221         €362 
P33I       D241 

(Figs.  7  and  8,  p.  363.)  B441 

The  forms  present  on  each  crystal  were : 

No.  I.  ab,  nmlkgM,  xyy,  s,  qpB,  ej),  /3E ;  also  deeply  striated 
indefinite  macrodomes. 

No.  2.  abc,  nmlu,  wxyyr),  s,  vxpQpB,  ^^',  also  indefinite 
macrodomes. 

No.   3.  abc,  nmlku,  hcrfe,  xy,    ^,  s,   A,  vxpqB,   Cr,   w/3. 

(Fig.  7) 

The  basal  plane,  c  (ooi),  is  present  on  crystal  No.  2,  as 
a  very  small  face  truncating  the  brachydomes,  and  it  is 
faintly  curved  and  striated  parallel  to  the  brachy-axis 
[100] ;  on  crystal  No.  3,  it  truncates  the  macrodomes  and 
is  curved  and  striated  parallel  to  [010]. 

356 


APPENDIX 

Of  the  forms  given  above,  w  (130)  has  not  been  before 
observed  on  BoHvian  crystals,  and  the  following  are  new 
for  the  mineral : 

^(035)-  Two  narrow  bright  faces,  faintly  striated  hor- 
izontally. 

Tj  (041).  Only  as  bright  striae;  observed  twice. 

^(312).  Two  small  bright  faces  striated  horizontally; 
in  the  zones  [112, 100],  [loi,  no],  [302,  010],  and  [310,001].* 

A  (321).  Two  narrow  planes  on  the  edges  of  the  hori- 
zontal striae  on  a  (100);  in  the  zones  [loi,  no],  [100,  021], 
and  [320,  001]." 

B(44i).  Small  planes,  sometimes  rather  wide;  deeply 
striated  horizontally.     On  all  three  crystals. 

€(243)?  Two  small  planes  in  the  striated  zones  [120, 
001] ;  the  brightest  portions  of  the  bands  fall  just  on  either 
side  of  the  zone  [203,  010]. 

D(24i).  A  fairly  large  plane,  deeply  striated  horizon- 
tally; in  the  zones  [120,  001]  and  [211,  010]. 

E(26i).  A  small  plane  deeply  striated  horizontally  and 
giving  no  bright  image  in  the  reflected  band  of  light;  in 
the  zones  [130,  001]  and  [211,  010]. 

The  following  are  the  angular  measurements  establish- 
ing the  new  forms : 


Calculated. 

Measured. 

wb=oss  •■  010      75° 

1/2' 

74°  22',  75° 

rjb=04i  :  010      29° 

17' 

30°,  29/2° 

Ke=3i2  :  302        9° 

0/2' 

9°/ 

^a=3i2  :  100       46° 

3' 

46° 

312  :  (310)*  44° 

39' 

44°  42' 

Aa=32i  :  100      34° 

9' 

34°  I' 

321:  (320)*  24° 

46' 

24°,  25° 

Bw=44i:iio      17° 

27' 

17°  38',  17°  18',  18°  8',  17°  24' 

Dk=24i :  120      24° 

17' 

24° 

241  :  (201)*  47° 

10' 

47°  16' 

261  :  (201)*  58° 

165^' 

58°  28' 

2.  The  second  specimen  is  also  from  the  San  Jos6  Mine 

*The  faces  (310),  (320),  and  (201)  were  not  present  on  the  crystals, 
but  their  positions  were  fixed  by  means  of  graduations  on  the  crystal 
adjustment  arcs  of  the  goniometer. 

357 


APPENDIX 

at  Oruro.  Here  several  small  crystals  of  andorite  incrust 
the  walls  of  cavities  in  massive  tetrahedrite.  It  is  possible 
that  some  of  the  massive  material  is  andorite,  as  it  close- 
ly resembles  the  crystallized  material  in  appearance;  all 
the  fragments  tested  were,  however,  found  to  contain 
copper,  while  in  the  crystals  there  was  no  indication 
of  the  presence  of  copper  when  the  material  was  treated 
with  nitric  acid  on  a  microscope  slide.  The  crystals  are 
I  to  2  mm.  in  length,  and  are  bright,  but  deeply  striated  in 
the  manner  described  above.  On  one  crystal  pyramidal 
planes  were  noticed  in  each  of  the  eight  octants.  The 
forms  determined  by  the  goniometrical  measurement  of 
one  crystal  were :  abc,  nml,  hfe,  ^(0^2)  yy,  vpq. 

3.  In  a  cavity  at  the  back  of  the  augelite  specimen  de- 
scribed above  are  several  crystals  of  wolf sbergite,  but  a 
crystal  fragment,  closely  resembling  wolfsbergite  in  ap- 
pearance, from  one  cavity,  was  found  on  measurement 
to  be  andorite.  The  forms  present  are  bmlkyp,  and  there 
are  other  small  pyramids.  Resting  on  the  andorite  are 
small  twinned  crystals  of  stannite. 

4.  Small  bright  crystals  in  a  cavity  of  the  stannite 
specimen  No.  3,  described  above,  were  found  on  measure- 
ment to  be  andorite  with  the  forms  nmlxyyqr,  etc. 

Wolfsbergite  (  =  Chalcostibite.  Sulph  -  antimonite  of 
copper,  CuSbSg.     Orthorhombic). 

Two  specimens  of  this  rare  mineral  have  recently  been 
described  from  the  Pulacayo  Mine,  Huanchaca,  Bolivia.* 
The  present  description  adds  one  more  to  the  four  localities 
from  which  this  mineral  has  hitherto  been  described. 

On  two  of  the  specimens  from  Oruro  are  bright  tabular 
or   blade-shaped  crystals   of   wolfsbergite  in  cavities   in 

*  L.  J.  Spencer,  "  On  Wolfsbergite  from  Bolivia,  and  the  Probable 
Identity  of  Wolfsbergite  and  Guejarite,"  Mineralogical  Magazine, 
1896,  vol.  xi.,  p.  X.  and  p.  338. 

5.  L.  Penfield  and  A.  Frenzel,  "  On  the  Identity  of  Chalcostibite 
(Wolfsbergite)  and  Guejarite,  and  on  Chalcostibite  from  Huanchaca, 
Bolivia,"  Amer.  Journ.  Set.,  1897,  vol.  iv.,  p.  27,  and  Zeitschr.f.  Kryst. 
M.  Min.,  1897,  xxviii.,  p.  598. 

358 


APPENDIX 

massive  tetrahedrite.  The  crystals  are  usually  small 
and  rarely  reach  I  cm.  in  length  and  breadth;  they  are 
flattened  parallel  to  the  basal  plane,  c  (ooi),  and  are  deeply 
striated  in  the  direction  of  the  macro-axis.  They  have  a 
steel-gray  color  with  brilliant  metallic  lustre;  and  there 
is  the  usual  perfect  cleavage  parallel  to  the  basal  plane. 
A  qualitative  chemical  examination  of  the  crystals  showed 
the  presence  of  copper,  antimony,  and  sulphur,  and  the 
absence  of  silver  and  lead.  Terminal  pyramidal  planes 
are  not  always  seen  on  the  crystals ;  they  are  usually  small 
and  dull  and  irregularly  developed.  Three  crystals  were 
measured  on  the  goniometer  and  gave  angular  values 
closely  agreeing  with  those  obtained  by  Penfield.  The 
pyramidal  planes,  though  somewhat  dull,  gave  good 
images,  and  their  indices  are  high,  as  is  often  the  case 
with  wolfsbergite.     Individual  crystals  showed  the  forms : 

No.  I.  c(ooi),  d(ioi),  g(20i),  ^(863),  p {6.12.7). 

The  planes  p  are  largely  developed,  and  the  crystal 
closely  resembles  Penfield 's  Fig.  2  (loc.  cit.). 

No.  2.  c(ooi),  A2(i03),  d(ioi),  g(20i). 

No.  3.  c  (001),  d  (lOi),  g  (201),  t  (021),  5  (065),  q  (863),  r  (261) ; 
and  other  small  pyramids  not  determined,  one  being  in 
the  zone  cr  and  having  the  indices  (6.18. i)  or  (7.21. i). 
Measured  to  c  86°  and  86°  55'.  Calculated  c:  (7.21.  i) 
=86°  23^ ',c:  (6. 18. 1)  =  85°  47^'. 

Jamesonite  (Sulph  -  antimonite  of  lead,  3PbS.2Sb2S3.* 
Orthorhombic). 

I.  From  the  Atocha  Mine  at  Oruro  comes  a  large  and 
very  friable  mass  consisting  of  numerous  delicate  acicu- 
lar  crystals  loosely  aggregated  together  in  radiated  or  plu- 
mose groups,  and  also  confusedly  grouped  together.  The 
color  is  iron-black,  with  a  bright  metallic  lustre.  The 
needles  are  straight  and  brittle.  They  are  not  in  the  least 
flexible,  but  easily  break  across,  showing  a  good  bright 
cleavage  perpendicular  to  their  length.     They  are  deeply 

*  Compare  Mineralogical  Magazine,  1899,  vol.  xii.,  p.  58. 

359 


APPENDIX 

striated  parallel  to  their  length,  and  are  much  intergrown 
with  each  other  in  the  same  direction,  so  that  it  is  not  easy 
to  select  simple  crystals  suitable  for  measurement.  Three 
fragments  were  measured  on  the  goniometer,  and  gave 
79°  as  the  approximate  value  for  the  prism  angle.  The 
basal  cleavage  forms  an  angle  of  about  90°  with  the  faces 
of  the  prism. 

2.  Another  small  specimen  is  a  firmer  aggregate  of 
coarser  needles  with  a  bright  steel-gray  to  lead-gray  color. 
The  prism  angle  was  measured  as  about  79°,  and  there 
is  a  good  cleavage  perpendicular  to  the  length  of  the  needles. 
Most  of  the  needles  are  incrusted  over  with  minute  crystals, 
which  in  places  are  large  enough  to  be  recognized  as  pyrites 
and  complex  twins  of  stannite.  A  crystal  of  quartz  is 
present  on  the  specimen. 

3.  A  specimen  from  the  San  Jose  Mine  is  an  incoherent 
black  mass  which  soils  everything  that  comes  in  contact 
with  it.  Detached  pieces  are  fluffy,  and  are  seen  under 
the  lens  or  microscope  to  consist  of  minute  black  fibres. 
These  are  short  and  straight;  they  are  easily  broken, 
and  do  not  appear  to  be  flexible.  The  material  is  therefore 
more  probably  jamesonite  than  plumosite.*  Imbedded  in 
the  specimen  are  small  octahedra  of  pyrites. 

These  three  specimens  of  jamesonite  have  been  examined 
chemically  by  Mr.  G.  T.  Prior,  and  each  found  to  contain 
lead,  antimony,  and  sulphur. 

Tetrahedrite  (Sulph-antimonite  of  copper,  silver,  etc., 
3(Cu,Ag)2S.Sb2S3.t    Cubic-tetrahedral). 

Several  specimens  from  the  San  Jose  Mine  consist  largely 
of  a  massive  iron-black  mineral  with  bright  metallic  lustre 
and  smooth  conchoidal  or  sub-conchoidal  fracture.  Quali- 
tative analysis  of  this  material  from  several  specimens 
by  Mr.  G.  T.  Prior  showed  the  presence  of  silver,  copper. 


*  Jamesonite  and  plumosite  are  to  be  regarded  as  distinct  mineral 
species,  although  since  i860  they  have  been  united  in  the  text-books, 
t  Compare  Mineralogical  Magazine,  1899,  vol.  xii.,  p.  202. 

360 


APPENDIX 

antimony,  and  sulphur,  and  an  absence  of  lead.  Labels 
sent  with  the  specimens  give  the  assay  value  at  lO  to  12  per 
cent,  of  silver.  The  material,  therefore,  appears  to  be  a 
richly  argentiferous  tetrahedrite.  Cavities  in  this  mas- 
sive mineral  contain  crystals  of  mispickel,  wolfsbergite,. 
andorite,  stannite,  etc.,  but  no  distinct  crystals  of  tetra- 
hedrite were  found. 

Pyrites  (Bisulphide  of  iron,  FeSa.  Cubic-dyakisdodec- 
ahedral). 

Pyrites,  either  massive  or  as  small  crystals,  is  present 
on  most  specimens.  Three  specimens  consist  almost  en- 
tirely of  good  crystals  of  pyrites. 

1.  A  fine  group  of  numerous  well  -  developed  cubo- 
octahedra,  each  about  I  cm.  in  diameter.  Small  planes  of 
the  form  e=7r  (210)  are  also  present  (Fig.  9,  p.  363).  The  sur- 
faces of  the  crystals  are  coated  with  a  thin  drusy  layer 
of  pyrites,  which  easily  chips  off  from  the  cube  and  do- 
decahedral  {e)  planes,  leaving  the  faces  bright  and  smooth, 
except  for  the  faint  striations  parallel  to  their  mutual 
intersections.  In  attempting  to  detach  the  drusy  layer 
from  the  octahedral  planes,  only  an  irregular  fractured 
surface  is  obtained.  The  drusy  layer  reflects  light  to- 
gether with  the  cube  planes  of  the  main  crystal.  Im- 
planted on  these  crystals  are  a  few  groups  of  very  indis- 
tinct crystals  of  tetrahedrite,  and  of  still  later  formation 
are  a  few  small  crystals  of  pyrites,  of  which  the  predominat- 
ing form  is  the  cube. 

2.  Massive  pyrites  with  the  cavities  at  the  back  of  the 
specimen  lined  with  small,  sharply  developed  octahedra, 
with  very  small  a  (100)  and  e=7r  (210).  On  the  front  of 
the  specimen  are  striated  cubes  with  o  (ili)  and  e=7r  (210). 
The  octahedral  crystals  are  bright,  while  the  cubes  have  a 
reddish  tarnish.  This  specimen  is  from  the  San  Jos6 
Mine  at  Oruro. 

3.  Massive  pyrites  with  cavities  at  the  back  lined  with 
small  and  bright,  sharply  developed  octahedra;  the  front 
of  the  specimen  consists  of  larger  curved  octahedra  with 

361 


APPENDIX 

an  iridescent  tarnish.     Small  planes  of  the  forms  a  (lOO) 
and  e=7r  (210)  are  present. 

Mispickel  (Sulph  -  arsenide  of  iron,  FeAsS.  Ortho- 
rhombic). 

Prismatic  crystals  of  mispickel  are  present  on  several 
specimens,  and  are  usually  associated  with  crystals  of 
stannite  and  massive  tetrahedrite.  The  largest  crystals, 
about  I  cm.  long,  are  those  on  the  best  stannite  specimen 
(No.  i)  mentioned  above.  They  form  more  or  less  radiated 
groups  standing  out  from  the  surface.  Each  crystal  is 
seen  to  be  built  up  of  smaller  crystals  in  not  quite  parallel 
position.  The  prism  m  (no)  is  terminated  by  horizontally 
striated  brachydomes  (Fig.  11,  p.  363);  of  these  q  (on)  is 
small  and  fairly  even ;  the  larger  rough  area  gives  a  band 
of  reflected  images  between  the  positions  of  t  (013)  and 
n  (012),  with  the  brightest  part  near  the  position  of  (025). 
On  the  augelite  specimen  the  crystals  are  smaller  and 
more  acicular.  These  crystals  (Fig.  10,  p.  363)  are  of  much 
the  same  habit  as  those  described  above,  but  they  have 
only  the  forms  m  (no)  and  q  (on);  they  are  irregularly 
grouped  together  on  the  specimen,  and  the  prisms  are 
often  terminated  at  both  ends. 

Galena  (Sulphide  of  lead,  PbS.     Cubic). 

One  of  the  specimens  is  a  large  mass  of  galena,  showing 
large  cleavage  surfaces  with  a  bluish  tarnish;  associated 
with  it  are  massive  tetrahedrite  and  small  amounts  of 
quartz,  chalybite,  and  copper-pyrites. 

Another  specimen,  from  the  Tetilla  Mine,  shows  nu- 
merous small  but  well-developed  cubo-octahedra  of  galena ; 
yellow  blende  is  also  present. 

Blende  (Sulphide  of  zinc,  ZnS.     Cubic-tetrahedral). 
Small  indistinct  crystals  of  yellow  blende  are  present 
on  the  galena  specimen  from  the  Tetilla  Mine. 

Copper-pyrites  (A  sulphur  salt  of  copper  and  iron,  CuFeSg. 
Tetragonal-scalenohedral) . 

362 


BOLIVIAN  MINERALS 


FIG.  7 


FIG.  9 


L.  J.  SPENCER  del. 


FIG.  lO 


Explanation  of  Plate 


FIG. II 


Fig.  7.  Andorite  from  San  Josd  Mine,  Oruro.      Forms:  a  (100),  n  (210),  *«  (no),  u  (130), 
b  (oio),^(io2),/(ioi),tf  (302),  JT  (on),  7  (021), >'  (031),  f  (312),  j  (212),  v  (112),/ (in),  ^  (221), 
/3(i3i).     (Page  355.) 
Fig.  8.  Do.     Crystal  showing  striations;  with  some  of  the  above  forms.     (Page  355.) 
Fig.  9.  Pyrites  from  Oruro.     Forms:  a  (100),  o  (in),  e=.it  (210).     (Page  361.) 
Fig.  10.  Mispickel  from  Oruro.     Forms:  w?  (no),  ^  (on),     (Page  362.) 
Fig.  II.  Do.     From  San  Jos^  Mine,  Oruro.     Forms:   tn  (no),  ^  (013),  (025)?,  n  (012),  j 
(on).     (Page  362.) 


T^^Z 


APPENDIX 

A  small  amount  of  massive  copper  -  pyrites  is  present 
on  one  of  the  galena  specimens  mentioned  above. 

Quartz  (Oxide  of  silicon,  SiOg.  Rhombohedral-trapezo- 
hedral). 

Quartz  is  present  on  several  specimens,  either  occurring 
massive  in  the  matrix  or  as  small  crystals  on  the  surface. 
Blebs  of  quartz  are  present  in  the  altered  volcanic  rock 
which  carry  the  metalliferous  veins.  Larger  crystals  of 
quartz,  up  to  6  cm.  in  length,  are  represented  by  an  isolated 
group  of  crystals  from  the  San  Jose  Mine;  they  enclose 
a  few  black  needles  with  the  appearance  of  jamesonite. 
Only  the  usual  forms  m  r  z  were  noted. 

Cassiterite  (Oxide  of  tin,  SnOg.     Tetragonal). 

The  compact  tin-stone  from  Oruro  is  of  much  the  same 
character  as  that  from  Huaina  Potosi.  The  heavy,  pale- 
brown,  compact  masses  contain  numerous  cavities  which 
are  lined  with  minute  crystals  of  cassiterite.  In  the  cavi- 
ties of  one  specimen  are  pentagonal  dodecahedra  e=7r  (210) 
of  pyrites,  and  in  another  the  cavities  are  lined  with  small 
quartz  crystals.  Massive  pyrites  and  a  black  mineral 
with  metallic  lustre  occur  in  small  quantities,  intermixed 
with  the  massive  cassiterite.  A  thin  section  of  a  specimen 
from  the  San  Jos^  Mine  shows  under  the  microscope  a 
porous  aggregate  of  small,  interlocking,  pale-yellow  crys- 
tals of  cassiterite.  The  index  of  refraction  and  the  double 
refraction  are  high.  Twinning  is  frequent,  and  some- 
times often  repeated;  the  line  of  junction  between  the  in- 
dividuals of  a  twin  is  always  sharp  and  straight. 

Chalybite  (Carbonate  of  iron,  FeCOa.     Rhombohedral) . 

Small  indistinct  crystals  of  chalybite  are  present  on  the 
large  galena  specimen  mentioned  above.  The  cleavage 
angle  was  measured  on  the  goniometer  as  73°  0'. 

Kaolinite  (Hydrated  silicate  of  aluminium,  Al203.2Si02^ 
2H2O.     Monoclinic). 

364 


APPENDIX 

White  powdery  kaolinite  is  sometimes  present,  filling 
cavities  and  dusted  over  the  free  surfaces  of  the  specimens. 
It  has  no  doubt  been  derived  by  the  alteration  of  the  felspar 
in  the  volcanic  rocks  which  carry  the  mineral  veins. 

Alunite  (Hydrated  sulphate  of  aluminium  and  potas- 
sium, 3AI2O3.K2O.4SO3.6H2O.     Rhombohedral). 

The  occurrence  of  alunite  at  Oruro  has  recently  been 
noticed  in  the  Mineralogical  Magazine  (1897,  vol.  xi.,  p. 
298).  It  is  present  on  one  of  Sir  Martin  Conway's  speci- 
mens as  white  patches  in  massive  tetrahedrite.  It  is 
usually  incoherent,  but  in  places  is  more  compact.  Under 
the  microscope  it  is  seen  to  consist  wholly  of  minute  rhom- 
bohedral crystals,  having  the  appearance,  but  not  the 
optical  characters,  of  regular  cubes. 

III.  Specimens  from  the  Pulacayo  Mine,  Huan- 

CHACA 

From  this  locality  are  four  small  specimens  on  which 
are  pyrites,  copper-pyrites,  galena,  blende,  quartz,  and 
stibnite,  both  massive  and  in  crystals.  The  crystals  of 
copper-pyrites,  though  small,  are  fairly  good.  On  one  of 
the  specimens  are  minute  black  crystals  with  a  brilliant 
metallic  lustre,  from  which  several  good  measurements 
were  obtained,  but  not  sufficient  for  identifying  the  crystals : 
they  appear  to  be  orthorhombic,  but  the  measurements  do 
not  agree  with  wolfsbergite,  bournonite,  andorite,  or  ste- 
phanite. 

IV.    Specimens  from  Carangas 

Barytes  (Barium  sulphate,  BaS04.     Orthorhombic). 

The  specimens  consist  of  an  irregular  cellular  aggre- 
gate of  large,  thin-tabular  crystals  of  barytes  up  to  10  cm. 
in  length.  Small  crystals,  grown  in  nearly  parallel  posi- 
tion on  a  main  crystal,  and  small  fragments  are  colorless 
and  transparent ;  the  mass  of  crystals  as  a  whole  is  white. 
As  determined  by  goniometric  measurements,  the  forms 

365 


APPENDIX 

present  are  c  (ooi),  m  (no),  /  (104),  d  {102),  u  (loi)  and 
o  (on).  Small  crystals  of  pyrites  are  enclosed  in,  and  in- 
crust  the  surface  of,  the  barytes.  Galena,  kaolinite,  and 
quartz  are  also  deposited  on  the  barytes. 


NOTES   ON   ROCKS   COLLECTED   BY   SIR   W.    M. 

CONWAY   DURING  HIS  EXPEDITIONS  IN 

THE  ANDES 

By  Professor  T.  G.  BONNEY,  D.Sc,  LL.D.,  F.R.S. 

The  rock  specimens  collected  by  Sir  Martin  Conway  dur- 
ing his  travels  in  the  Bolivian  Andes  have  been  intrusted  to 
me  for  examination.  The  ends  which  he  had  especially 
in  view  made  it  difficult  to  secure  a  large  number  of  speci- 
mens, but  some  of  them  possess  an  exceptional  interest 
as  representing  localities  previously  untrodden,  so  far  as 
we  know,  by  the  foot  of  man.  These  enable  us  to  deter- 
mine the  nature  of  the  rocks  which  constitute  two  of  the 
highest  summits  in  the  eastern  and  more  elevated  Cor- 
dillera of  the  Bolivian  Andes,  and  to  infer  that  its  crest 
in  other  parts  is  not  volcanic.  This  fact,  and  the  results 
afforded  by  some  other  specimens,  are  valuable  additions 
to  the  mass  of  information  on  the  geology  of  the  Bolivian 
Andes  embodied  by  the  late  David  Forbes  in  his  classic 
paper,"  and  of  the  predecessors  to  whom  he  refers.  That 
excellent  petrologist,  while  showing  that  Palaeozoic  and 
later  sedimentaries,  together  with  igneous  works  of  con- 
siderable antiquity,  entered  very  largely  into  the  com- 
position of  these  mountains,  pointed  out  that  volcanic 
rocks  of  the  ordinary  Andean  type  also  occurred,  calling 
especial  attention  to  their  similarity  in  Bolivia,  Peru,  and 
Chile.  Specimens  brought  by  Sir  Martin  Conway  from 
three  localities  fully  bear  out  his  predecessor's  observa- 
tion, though  none  of  them  happen  to  contain  the  crystal- 

♦  Quart.  Jour.  Geol.  Soc,  xvii.  (1861),  pp.  7-62. 

366 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


APPENDIX 


lized  quartz  which  he  mentions,  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  range  themselves  with  the  basaltic  group.  The  rocks 
also  of  Ecuador,  as  we  learned  from  Mr.  Whymper's 
valuable  collection,  belong  in  the  main  to  the  same  great 
group,  the  andesites,  though  several  of  them  contain 
amblystegite,  a  variety  of  rhombic  pyroxene,  which  I 
have  not  noted  in  the  specimens  which  I  have  examined 
from  Bolivia  or  Chile.  That  difference,  however,  is  hard- 
ly of  secondary  importance.  The  specimens  collected  by 
Sir  Martin  Conway  during  his  ascent  of  Aconcagua  con- 
firm the  inferences  to  which  I  was  led  by  examining  those 
obtained  by  Messrs.  FitzGerald  and  Vines,  while  the  few 
from  Mount  Sarmiento  in  Tierra  del  Fuego  show  that 
mountain  to  be  composed,  not  of  volcanic  material,  but  of 
crystalline  rock,  greatly  modified  by  subsequent  pressure. 

(l)  ILLIMANI 

From  the  upper  part  of  this  mountain  Sir  Martin  Conway 
brought  back  eleven  specimens,  some  of  them  representing 
the  ridge  of  the  Pic  de  Paris,  from  the  last  rocks  which 
he  traversed.  Grouping  them  for  description  according  to 
localities,  we  find:  (l), ''from  the  first  camp  on  lUimani," 
resembles  a  hard  dark  mudstone,  possibly  with  a  rude 
cleavage;  (7)  and  (8)  are  from  the  "rock  wall  below  the 
fourth  camp.''  The  former  is  a  dark,  minutely  granular 
rock,  the  nature  of  which  is  doubtful ;  the  latter  is  stained 
a  rusty  brown  outside,  and  is  very  decomposed.  It  is 
apparently  a  holocrystalline  rock,  possibly  once  a  fel- 
spathic  granite,  but  is  not  likely  to  repay  microscopic 
examination;  (9),  "behind  camp  four,''  is  another  puz- 
zling, dark,  minutely  granular  rock,  resembling  (2)  and 
(7).  "  From  the  top  of  the  shoulder  of  the  Pico  del  Indio  " 
comes  a  crystalline  and  subporphyritic  rock  (10).  Of  the 
specimens  from  the  ridge  of  the  Pic  de  Paris,  (2)  is  an- 
other of  these  minutely  granular  dark  rocks,  with  a  little 
cupriferous  pyrites  on  a  joint  surf  ace,  and  (3),  a  similar  rock, 
also  with  the  same  mineral,  but  more  distinctly  sedimentary 

367 


APPENDIX 

in  aspect.  The  beds  are  said  to  strike  southwest  and 
northeast,  and  to  be  nearly  vertical ;  (4)  is  permeated  with 
pyrite,  and  is  possibly  a  fine-grained  mudstone,  gritty  or 
even  pebbly  in  places,  but  is  so  affected  by  mineralization 
that  its  origin  is  not  easily  determined ;  (5)  is  deeply  stained 
with  limonite,  and  may  only  be  a  vein  product;  (6),  which 
shows  slickensides,  is  another  of  these  puzzling  dark  rocks, 
but  (11)  appears  to  be  crystalline,  though  fine  grained,  as  if 
possibly  a  darkish  banded  gneiss.  Taking  first  the  most 
difficult  group,  from  which  I  selected  (2,)  (6),  (7),  and  (ii) 
for  slicing,  a  glance  at  the  preparations  through  the  micro- 
scope explained  the  uncertainty  whether  they  were  igneous 
or  sedimentary.  They  were  rather  minutely  crystalline; 
nevertheless  they  belonged  to  the  latter  group;  in  other 
words,  they  have  been  affected  by  contact  metamorphism, 
which,  however,  owing  no  doubt  to  the  original  constitu- 
tion of  the  material,  has  not  developed  some  minerals  which 
usually  are  conspicuous.  They  have  much  in  common, 
though  exhibiting  certain  varietal  differences.  The  ground- 
mass  chiefly  consists  of  the  following  minerals:  brown 
mica,  a  white  mica,  in  extremely  minute  flakes,  aggregated 
in  little  patches,  opacite,  granules  of  quartz,  and  perhaps 
of  felspar.  These  constituents  are  unequally  distributed, 
the  first  and  third  showing  a  tendency  to  cluster.  As  to  the 
varietal  differences,  (2)  exhibits  a  number  of  irregularly 
outlined  dusky  spots  which,  with  crossed  nicols,  look  like 
cloudspots  on  a  brighter  field;  (6)  affords  rather  similar 
but  less  dusky  spots,  which,  however,  often  are  darker 
at  the  centre,  while  the  brown  mica  tends  to  gather  round 
these  in  an  irregular  ring.  In  (7)  the  spots  are  yet  darker 
than  in  (2),  and  the  dominant  mineral  in  them  acts  rather 
feebly  on  polarized  light.  There  is  not  sufficient  evidence 
in  any  one  of  these  specimens  to  show  what  this  mineral 
may  be,  but  the  rocks  themselves  may  be  reckoned  among 
the  ''spotted  schists,''  the  fruits  of  contact  metamorphism. 
In  (11)  the  process  has  gone  further,  and  the  rock  is 
practically  crystalline,  the  cloudy  spots  have  disappeared ; 
the  constituents  are  quartz  (possibly  some  felspar),  brown 

368 


APPENDIX 

mica,  some  iron  oxides,  and  brownish  -  yellow  grains  re- 
sembling idocrase.  The  specimen  shows  a  banded  struct- 
ure, parts  being  more  micaceous  than  others. 

The  igneous  rock  (lo)  is  shown  on  microscopic  examina- 
tion to  have  a  microgranular  groundmass  composed  mainly 
of  grains  or  imperfectly  formed  crystals  of  felspar,  in  which 
are  imbedded  the  following  more  conspicuous  crystals: 
(a)  felspar,  fairly  idiomorphic,  varying  in  amount  of 
decomposition:  perhaps  more  than  one  species,  but  only 
plagioclase  recognized;  (6)  quartz,  occasionally  retaining 
traces  of  crystalline  outlines,  but  not  seldom  corroded  by 
groundmass;  (c)  biotite,  more  or  less  altered,  and  a  little 
chlorite ;  {d)  zircon ;  (e)  iron  oxide — very  little ;  (/)  a  mineral 
occurring  in  grains,  in  one  or  two  cases  showing  crystalline 
form,  but  more  commonly  irregular  in  outline,  and  once 
in  aggregated  granules :  rather  strongly  pleochroic,  varying 
from  a  greenish  gray  to  a  rather  tawny  red :  polarization 
tints  generally  rather  low,  extinction  oblique  but  not  at 
high  angles.  The  mineral  has  some  resemblance  to 
piedmontite,  and  I  think  it  probably  a  manganese  silicate, 
though  it  does  not  actually  correspond  with  any  known  to 
me.  The  crystalline  condition  of  this  rock  is  not  such  as  to 
suggest  that  it  alone  has  been  the  agent  of  metamorphism 
in  the  sedimentaries  on  the  upper  part  of  lUimani,  but 
(8)  indicates  more  coarsely  crystalline  masses  to  be  also 
present.  Thus  the  peak  of  lUimani  is  not  volcanic,  as 
has  been  sometimes  asserted;  neither  is  it  wholly  gra- 
nitic, as  affirmed  by  D'Orbigny,  nor  sedimentary  Silurian, 
as  by  D.  Forbes,*  each  of  them  having  seen  only  one  side 
of  the  shield. 

(2)  SORATA 

FIRST  EXPEDITION 

The  specimens  numbered  from  (17)  to  {2S)  were  collected 
by  Sir  Martin  Conway  during  his  first  expedition  to  II- 
lampu  or  Sorata,  when  he  attained  an  elevation  of  20,000 
feet. 

*  Ut  supra,  p.  53. 
2A  369 


APPENDIX 

(17).  One  and  a  half  hours  northwest  of  Huarina;  "this 
rock  crosses  the  road  and  forms  a  mass  of  low  hills  to  east, 
the  beds  striking  northwest  and  being  nearly  vertical/' 
It  is  a  small  piece  of  a  hard  brown  mudstone,  defined  mostly 
by  bedding  and  joint  faces,  the  former  showing  slight 
variations  in  the  texture  of  the  material ;  also,  small  flakes 
of  fragmental  white  mica  are  more  thickly  scattered  on 
some  of  them  than  on  others.  The  rock  has  a  Palaeozoic 
aspect. 

(18).  "  A  bed  of  this,  horizontally  stratified,  just  north  of 
where  (17)  crosses  the  road.''  A  pale  buff,  compact  rock, 
crumbling  and  very  decomposed,  much  resembling  a  do- 
mite;  possibly  an  indurated  volcanic  dust,  but  more  prob- 
ably a  rotten,  compact  andesite. 

(19).  '' Near  Achacache.  This  rock  goes  striking  away 
parallel  to  the  Cordillera  to  south,  forming  skeleton  of  low 
line  of  hills."  It  is  a  piece  of  hard,  fine-grained  sand- 
stone or  quartzite,  containing  some  minute  flakes  of  white 
mica,  and  defined  top  and  bottom  by  bedding  planes. 
It  shows  sharp,  irregular  jointing  and  external  zones  of  a 
ferruginous  infiltration — probably  it  is  a  Palaeozoic  rock. 

(22).  ''Specimens  from  the  ridge  of  Hiska  Haukafia 
glacier,  by  which  we  ascended  to  Rocktooth  Camp,  An- 
cohuma.''     (See  Mr.  Spencer's  report,  page  343.) 

(23).  Specimens  from  the  Rocktooth  Camp,  Ancohuma. 
(See  Mr.  Spencer's  report,  page  343.) 

The  next  group  of  specimens  come  from  localities  high 
up  on  Sorata,  slightly  to  the  east  of  a  line  drawn  south  from 
the  summit. 

(20),  (21)  are  labelled  ''just  above  north  side  of  Hiska 
Haukana  lake -basin,  Ancohuma.  The  red  rock  forms 
bulk  of  hills  on  both  sides  of  the  basin  and  spreads  away 
to  southeast;  strikes  north,  dip  30°  to  west."  The  two 
specimens  appear  to  be  identical:  a  hard,  compact,  gray 
mudstone,  probably  with  signs  of  a  cleavage.  As  their 
aspect  under  a  lens  was  slightly  abnormal,  I  had  a  slice 
cut  from  (20).  The  larger  portion  is  composed  of  a  clear^ 
minute,  micaceous  mineral,  exhibiting  a  somewhat  foliated 

370 


APPENDIX 

structure,  in  which  occur  small  grains  of  a  water -clear 
mineral,  probably  quartz,  and  granules  or  clustered 
grains,  generally  rather  tabular  in  form,  of  iron  oxide 
(hematite?)  also  fairly  abundant  films  of  brown  mica, 
rather  irregular  both  in  dispersion  and  size.  In  this 
groimdmass  are  fairly  numerous  patches,  about  .01  inch 
diameter,  some  approximately  circular,  others  prismatic, 
but  rounded  at  the  corners.  These  enclose  much  of  the 
matrix,  but  when  seen  with  a  low  power  appear  as  brownish 
spots.  On  crossing  the  nicols  they  are  found  to  act  feebly 
on  polarized  light,  those  of  the  former  shape  remaining 
almost  dark  as  the  stage  is  rotated,  those  of  the  latter 
apparently  extinguishing  parallel  to  their  axes.  The 
data  are  insufficient  for  an  accurate  determination,  but  I 
suspect  them  to  be  a  mineral  allied  to  dipyre.  The  rock 
shows  the  effect  of  pressure  and  of  moderate  contact  action, 
the  second,  I  suspect,  being  the  later  in  date. 

(24).  "From  Hiska  Haukafia."  Two  vein-specimens: 
one  consisting  of  quartz,  cupriferous  pyrite,  and  a  metallic 
mineral,  with  a  hardness  less  than  3,  a  brown  streak  and 
a  distinct  cleavage ;  the  other  composed  of  granular 
pyrite. 

(25).  ''Common  among  d6bris  all  over  west  slopes  of 
foot  of  Ancohuma. ''  A  compact,  hard,  black  rock,  sharply 
jointed,  apparently  a  variety  of  siliceous  argillite. 

(26),  (27).  "  Form  the  rock  over  which  lay  all  our  descent 
to  Sorata  town — strike  parallel  with  the  Cordillera,  dip- 
ping at  very  varied  angles. "  The  former  is  a  small  piece  of 
well -banded,  rather  gritty  felspathic  mudstone,  contain- 
ing some  fragmental  mica.  The  latter  is  a  more  compact 
but  banded  mudstone,  with  some  mica  on  the  bedding 
plane.  These  perhaps  belong  to  the  same  series  as  (17), 
(19),  (20),  and  (21). 

(28).  "  Picked  out  of  adobe  wall  of  Tambo  de  Patamanta. '' 
A  hard,  brown,  compact  material,  probably  siliceous, 
showing  on  its  surface  impressions  of  cubes  (probably 
of  pyrite)  which  have  disappeared.  No  doubt  a  vein  speci- 
men. 

371 


APPENDIX 

SECOND  EXPEDITION 

From  the  last  rocks  on  Sorata,  which,  however,  were 
nearly  3000  feet  below  its  snowy  summit.  Sir  Martin  Con- 
way brought  a  considerable  number  of  specimens.  But 
as  the  majority  are  vein  products,  they  are  only  indirectly 
illustrative  of  the  rocks  which  form  this  portion  of  the 
massif.  Of  them  a  brief  notice  will  suffice,  and  as  any 
interest  which  they  possess  is  mineralogical,  rather  than 
geological,  I  have  not  had  any  of  them  sliced  for  microscopic 
examination;  (a)  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  a  group.  It 
consists  of  felspar,  mottled  with  a  rather  minute,  dark  green 
mineral,  probably  a  chlorite.  The  crystalline  grains  of 
the  former  are  fairly  coarse,  cream  white  in  color,  more 
or  less  decomposed,  but  retaining  in  places  indications 
of  oscillatory  twinning.  With  this  specimen  we  may 
place  (6),  (/),  (;■),  (/),  (o),  {v),  (w),  and  perhaps  (;i;).  In 
(e),  some  small  quartz  crystals  occur  in  cavities;  to  (/) 
a  bit  of  rock,  somewhat  similar  to,  but  coarser  than,  {k) 
is  attached;  in  (w),  the  green  mineral  occurs  in  larger 
crystals,  and  resembles  a  hydrous  biotite  rather  than  a 
true  chlorite.  Among  the  remaining  specimens,  {p)  con- 
sists of  quartz  and  black  tourmaline,  the  latter  occurring 
in  bunches  of  acicular  crystals ;  (q)  is  the  same,  but  in  one 
part  is  a  fair  amount  of  felspar;  (c),  a  lump  about  5  inches 
long,  consists  almost  entirely  of  radiating  groups  of  acicu- 
lar black  tourmaline,  with  some  interstitial  quartz,  felspar, 
and,  occasionally,  a  little  ferruginous  dust.  Tourmaline 
is  present  in  (r),  (5),  (t),  (2),  but  these  are  a  little  more 
varied  in  composition ;  they  also  contain  a  mineral,  which, 
though  bearing  some  resemblance  to  tourmaline  (giving 
straight  extinction,  and  not  to  be  scratched  with  the  knife), 
is  of  a  rather  unusual  color  (brown,  inclining  to  olive  in 
small  fragments),  with  weak  pleochroism,  and  fairly  well- 
marked  transverse  cleavage. 

We  infer  from  these  specimens  that  the  rocks  of  the 
massif  are  crystalline,  and  have  undergone  some  sub- 
sequent changes.     The  next  group  shows  the  former  sup- 

372 


APPENDIX 

position  to  be  correct.  Of  them,  one,  {g),  is  so  much  decom- 
posed that  I  have  not  thought  it  worth  sUcing.  It  is,  how- 
ever, a  moderately  coarse  holocrystalhne  rock,  consisting  of 
a  decomposed  white  felspar,  a  greenish  pyroxenic  mineral, 
probably  hornblende,  and  some  rather  irregularly  distrib- 
uted quartz.  Hence  it  is  a  quartziferous  syenite  or  diorite, 
probably  the  latter.  The  remaining  specimens  have  been 
examined  under  the  microscope ;  (d)  is  a  moderately  coarse 
holocrystalhne  rock,  consisting  of  quartz  and  felspar,  the 
latter  decomposed  and  largely  replaced  by  minute  flakes 
or  fibres  of  a  micaceous  mineral,  but  in  places  showing 
plagioclastic  twinning,  with  a  little  altered  biotite,  one  or 
two  zircons,  and  a  fair  number  of  small  grains  of  a  trans- 
lucent, rich  sienna-brown  mineral.  The  last  show  a  slight 
tendency  to  a  prismatic  habit,  and  appear  once  or  twice 
to  assume  a  dull  olive  or  bluish  tint,  or  be  connected  with 
a  mineral  of  that  color.  As  a  rule,  they  resemble  pseudo- 
brookite  more  than  any  other  mineral  known  to  me.  Here 
and  there  are  small  irregular  veins  of  a  mosaic  of  granules, 
apparently  quartz,  probably  indicative  of  some  ancient 
mechanical  disturbance.  The  rock  may  be  named  a  granite, 
but  it  belongs  to  the  miarolite  type;  (m)  is  also  a  similar 
holocrystalhne  rock,  consisting  of  quartz,  somewhat  de- 
composed felspar,  much  of  it  certainly  plagioclase,  a  fair 
amount  of  biotite,  and  a  little  iron  oxide  and  zircon.  The 
constituent  crystalline  grains  vary  a  little  in  size,  and 
we  find,  as  in  the  last,  some  indications,  but  less  marked, 
of  mechanical  disturbance.  This  rock  also  is  a  granite 
(miarolite) ;  (n)  is  generally  similar  to  the  last-named  rock, 
but  with  more  signs  of  alteration,  especially  in  the  case 
of  the  biotite.  The  quartz  also  more  frequently  shows  a 
mosaic  structure;  (n)  is  a  fine-grained  granite  or  aplite, 
with  only  a  little  mica  (both  brown  and  white).  Except  for 
the  absence  of  the  supposed  pseudobrookite  we  might  sup- 
pose it  a  comparatively  compact  variety  of  (d) ;  (k)  rep- 
resents a  biotite  granite  (containing  two  or  three  zircons), 
bearing  a  general  resemblance  to  (m) .  This  is  cut  by  a  micro- 
granite,  which  here  and  there  exhibits  an  approach  to  a 

373 


APPENDIX 

graphic  structure.  It  includes  a  few  grains  of  iron  oxide 
and  flakes  of  altered  biotite^  together  with  a  few  larger 
grains  of  felspar  and  quartz,  which  may  have  been  derived 
from  the  other  rock. 

These  specimens,  taken  as  a  whole,  show  that  Sorata 
in  its  highest  visible  part  is  composed  of  holocrystalline 
rocks,*  and  is  not  one  of  the  volcanic  peaks. 

(3)  Various  Localities  in  Bolivia 

(12).  ''Buttress  at  angle  going  to  Cohoni."  Crystals  of 
white  felspar  (up  to  about  .2  inch  diameter),  of  biotite,  and 
a  little  pyroxene  about  half  that  size,  are  imbedded  in 
a  rather  speckled  gray  groundmass.  The  microscope 
shows  that  the  first  mineral  is  plagioclastic ;  the  second 
is  much  affected  by  corrosion,  and  is  sometimes  reduced 
to  a  mere  framework  of  granular  iron  oxide,  and  the  third 
is  a  much-altered,  light-colored  augite  (?).  These  minerals 
are  imbedded  in  a  pale  greenish  or  brownish  glass,  studded 
with  minute  felspar  microliths.  The  rock  accordingly  is 
a  mica-andesite,  and  no  doubt  belongs  to  the  volcanic 
group  of  the  South  American  chain. 

(13),  (14).  "Near  Cohoni."  Two  specimens  of  very 
minutely  granular  decomposed  red  rocks.  Without  micro- 
scopic examination  (and  they  do  not  seem  worth  it)  I  cannot 
determine  whether  they  are  compact  andesites  or  indurated 
volcanic  dust.  But  they  probably  represent  the  same 
group  as  the  last-named  specimen. 

(15).  "Southeast  angle,  Esquina  de  Pongo.''  Two 
specimens  of  a  rough  gray  mudstone  (no  effervescence 
with  hydrochloric  acid),  containing  some  minute  parallel- 
lying  flakes  of  white  mica. 

(16).  "Just  north  of  Mellocato,  on  west  side  of  La  Paz 
Valley  (striking  parallel  with  the  Cordillera).''    A  very 

*  D.  Forbes  (ut  supra,  p.  53)  says  that  Sorata  is  composed  of  Silurian 
strata,  "  fossiliferous,  as  I  have  proved  .  .  .  up  to  its  very  summit." 
Obviously  this  phrase  must  be  employed  with  great  laxity. 

374 


APPENDIX 

fine-grained,  reddish,  felspathic  grit,  bearing  some  resem- 
blance to  (13)  and  (14),  but  a  little  coarser. 

(29)— (31).  'Xommon  in  debris  above  Huarisata  on  pass 
to  Sorata  (large  mass  of  red  rock  seen  at  foot  of  Ancohuna) " ; 
(29)  is  a  red -colored  grit,  moderately  coarse.  A  little 
felspar  may  be  present,  but  the  grains  are  chiefly  quartz, 
some  being  well  rounded,  others  showing  crystal  faces 
due  to  secondary  deposition ;  (30)  is  a  buff-colored  quartzo- 
felspathic  grit,  and  (31)  is  a  holocrystalline  rock,  very 
much  decomposed,  but  felspar  with  some  biotite  and  a  little 
interstitial  quartz  may  be  recognized  in  one  or  two  places. 
The  rock  probably  was  a  mica-syenite  or  diorite. 

(2,2).  "Not  far  from  Huarina  (see  my  note  book,  Oct. 
17th).''  A  very  decomposed,  compact,  buff-colored  rock, 
containing  a  few  scattered  crystals ;  the  light-colored  prob- 
ably decomposed  felspar;  the  dark  biotite.  The  rock 
is  probably  a  domite  or  very  decomposed  andesite. 

(33)- (36).  ''From  Cusanaco  placer  mine,  below  Palea.'' 
Of  these  (33)  is  a  small  piece  of  a  very  ferruginous  (partly 
limonite)  rock,  probably  sedimentary  in  origin.  A  little 
streak  of  gold  may  be  detected  in  one  place,  but  some  one 
may  have  used  the  specimen  as  a  test-stone ;  (34)  is  a  very 
fine-grained  felspathic  grit,  stained  with  hematite;  and 
(36),  a  speckled,  grayish-colored  rock,  is  extremely  decom- 
posed, but  is  probably  an  andesite. 

(40)-(46).  "From  Vilahaque  Hill."  Of  these  (40),  said 
to  be  the  "main  material  of  the  hill,''  is  composed  of  more 
or  less  subangular  fragments,  ranging  up  to  over  an  inch 
in  diameter,  apparently  a  compact  quartzite,  which  are 
cemented  by  a  dark  ferruginous  matrix;  (41)  is  a  rather 
fine-grained,  soft,  crumbling,  red,  felspathic  sandstone,* 
and  (42)  is  similar,  but  browner  in  color;  (43)  is  more 
variable  in  structure,  containing  a  few  small  pebbles, 
and  is  intermediate  in  color.     In  all,  some  of  the  quartz 


*  The  occurrence  of  red  sandstones  in  Bolivia  is  noted  by  D.  Forbes 
{Quart.  Jour.  Geol.  Soc,  1861,  p.  38),  who  assigns  them  to  the  Permian 
Period. 

375 


APPENDIX 

grains  are  fairly  rounded;  (44),  "from  loose  stones  on  the 
hill-side,"  is  a  finely  speckled,  rather  dark,  reddish  rock, 
probably  igneous,  but  belonging,  I  think,  to  an  older 
group  than  the  ordinary  volcanics  of  the  Andes;  (45)  is 
reddish  in  color,  iron  stained,  and  probably  a  very  fine- 
grained quartz-grit,  while  (46)  is  a  vein  specimen,  chiefly 
consisting  of  quartz. 

(47).  "A  heap  of  this  in  Santa  Ana  Hacienda  for  build- 
ing/' It  is  a  dark,  rather  peaty-looking  mud,  in  which  are 
traces  of  plants. 

(48).  "This  and  a  conglomerate  like  (40)  dip  to  the  west- 
em  plain  at  60°  from  Penas  Hill."  It  is  a  fine-grained, 
red,  felspathic  grit,  like  (41)  and  its  associates. 

(49).  "Conformably  underlies  (48)."  The  rock  appears 
to  be  a  dark,  gritty  mudstone,  in  which  is  some  minute 
mica.  Microscopic  examination  shows  it  to  be  a  fine- 
grained grit,  rather  iron-stained,  in  which  quartz,  felspar, 
and  white  mica  can  be  recognized,  with  a  few  granules  of 
zircon,  one  or  two  possibly  of  tourmaline,  and  of  pseudo- 
brookite  (?). 

(50)~(54).  "On  slope  of  hill  approaching  Milluni";  (50) 
is  gray,  felspathic  argillite,  possibly  affected  by  cleavage ; 
(51)  is  a  gritty,  gray-colored  mudstone,  in  which  are  thin 
micaceous  layers.  The  specimen  is  traversed  by  cracks 
which  are  filled  with  quartz,  etc. ;  (52)  is  a  dark  mudstone, 
rather  heavy,  jointed,  and  possibly  cleaved;  (53)  is  less 
easily  determined.  It  is  gray  in  color  and  veined.  Under 
the  microscope  it  is  seen  to  consist  of  grains  of  quartz, 
with  some  felspar  and  flakelets  of  brown  mica,  a  little  of 
the  translucent  brown  mineral  (pseudobrookite?),  and  a 
few  small  zircons,  the  interstices  being  filled  by  aggregated 
minute  granules  which  afford  bright  tints  with  crossed 
nicols.  The  rock  is  sedimentary  in  origin,  but  apparently 
is  slightly  altered,  possibly  by  contact  metamorphism. 

(54)~(59).  From  Millunimine;  (54)  is  attached  to  three 
specimens,  from  veins,  apparently  in  a  mudstone.  They 
consist  of  quartz,  pyrite,  ordinary  and  cupriferous,  etc. ; 
(55)  is  part  of  an  impure   quartz  vein,  crystals  of   that 

376 


APPENDIX 

mineral  covering  one  surface;  (56)  is  a  dark  mudstone^ 
containing  minute  flakes  of  white  mica,  and  affording 
a  rough  fracture.  It  exhibits  markings,  probably  vege- 
table, one  of  them  resembling  the  impression  of  a  stem  of  a 
plant;  (58),  probably,  is  a  fine-grained,  felspathic  grit;  a 
vein  in  one  face  contains  many  small  crystals  of  quartz, 
colored  by  hematite ;  (59)  is  a  hard,  gray  rock,  with  an  ir- 
regular fracture,  probably  a  fine-grained,  rather  felspathic 
grit,  but  (57)  presents  some  resemblance  to  a  pale-colored 
andesite.  The  structure,  on  microscopic  examination,  is 
seen  to  be  rather  minute,  but  appears  on  the  whole  to  be 
related  to  (53).  Hence  I  am  disposed  to  look  upon  it  as 
sedimentary,  though  possibly  slightly  affected  by  contact 
metamorphism. 

(60),  (61).  ''  In  situ  on  ascent  of  a  spur  of  Cacaaca,  crossing 
from  Milluni/'  The  first  is  a  darkish  gray,  gritty  mud- 
stone,  felspathic  and  micaceous,  with  distinct  indications 
of  bedding  and  jointing;  the  second,  a  gritty  rock  con- 
taining fossils. 

(71).  "  Rock  in  which  the  lode  is  found,  Huaina  Potosi.'' 
A  fine-grained,  dull-colored  rock,  containing  several  cubic 
crystals  of  pyrite  and  traces  of  stibnite  (?).  The  micro- 
scope proves  it  to  be  a  grit,  composed  of  quartz,  felspar, 
more  or  less  decomposed,  some  biotite,  chlorite,  and  white 
mica,  a  few  small  zircons,  and  iron  oxide,  in  which  occur 
larger  crystals  of  pyrite.  It  has  the  aspect  of  a  Palaeozoic 
rock. 

(80),  (81).  "Pampa  crust  at  Uyuni.''  In  the  former, 
grains  of  quartz,  mostly  subangular  to  subrotund,  with 
some  rounded  and  larger  (not  exceeding  a  hemp  seed  in 
size,  and  generally  less  than  a  mustard  seed),  are  scattered 
throughout  a  mass  of  rather  compact  tufa.  The  speci- 
men is  nearly  an  inch  thick,  and  its  surface  is  irregular 
and  lumpy;  (81)  is  more  cavernous,  gives  a  brisker  ef- 
fervescence, and  contains  less  grit.  Some  lichen  is  grow- 
ing on  the  surface. 

(82),  (83).  Lava  from  Ascotan.  The  former  exhibits 
felspar  crystals  up  to  about  one-fifth  of  an  inch  in  diameter, 

377 


APPENDIX 

in  a  rather  dark,  compact  matrix,  which  becomes  redder  on 
weathering.  Microscopic  examination  shows  the  more 
conspicuous  crystals  to  be  plagioclastic  felspar,  biotite,  and 
hornblende  (the  two  being  often  blackened  by  iron  oxide), 
with  a  little  paler-colored  augite.  These  are  imbedded  in 
a  dirty  brown  glass,  studded  with  microliths  of  plagioclastic 
felspar.  The  rock,  accordingly,  is  a  biotite- hornblende - 
andesite.  The  second  specimen  is  generally  similar,  but 
its  reddish  matrix  is  more  distinctly  mottled  with  darker 
tints.  The  more  conspicuous  minerals  are  as  before;  the 
biotite  and  hornblende  are  more  easily  recognized.  The 
microscope  shows  no  material  difference  to  exist,  though 
the  biotite  and  hornblende  are  less  affected,  and  the  base 
affords  slight  indications  of  a  fluxional  structure;  (83), 
also  from  Ascotan,  is  a  pale,  cream-colored  granular  rock, 
either  a  decomposed  trachyte  or  fine  trachytic  ash,  in 
which  a  large  quantity  (perhaps  nearly  half  the  mass) 
of  lemon-yellow  sulphur  is  interspersed.  The  exact  nature 
of  the  matrix  cannot  be  determined  microscopically,  and 
the  specimen  is  hardly  worth  microscopic  examination, 
which,  indeed,  might  give  no  result. 

(85) --(89).  Don  Pedro  Volcano ;  (85)  is  dull-red  scoriaceous 
rock,  with  a  fair  number  of  small  spots ;  some  black,  about 
as  large  as  pinheads,  indicating  a  pyroxene;  others  light 
colored,  probably  felspar;  (86),  a  compact,  pale -pinkish 
matrix,  is  studded  with  small  crystals  of  a  glassy  felspar 
and  of  biotite  (often  idiomorphic),  in  both  cases  not  ex- 
ceeding I  inch  in  diameter.  The  rock  under  the  microscope 
has  a  general  resemblance  to  the  last  described,  but  con- 
tains augites  slightly  larger  in  size,  and  has  a  rather  clearer 
base;  (87)  is  a  purplish  black,  minutely  vesicular  rock, 
containing  some  minute  crystals  of  felspar.  On  micro- 
scopic examination  it  is  found  to  be  studded  with  pla- 
gioclastic felspar,  ranging  from  microliths  to  about  .03 
inch  in  longest  diameter,  with  grains  and  granules  of  iron 
oxide,  and  the  same  (not  very  regular  in  outline)  of  augite. 
There  is  a  little  residual  glass",  but  it  is  difficult  to  detect 
among  the  crowd  of  small  minerals. 

378 


APPENDIX 

(90),  (91).  "Railway  cutting  west  of  Sal  Gema/'  A 
piece  of  rather  hard,  compact,  gray  shale,  slightly  irreg- 
ular in  shape,  with  joint  surfaces,  brown  stains,  and 
dendritic  markings;  (91)  is  generally  similar  in  shape, 
browner,  and  very  rotten.  The  outside  is  shale,  but  a 
layer,  about  half  an  inch  thick,  is  probably  a  rotten  fel- 
spathic  grit.  The  specimen  is  hardly  worth  cutting  to 
determine  the  nature  of  the  latter. 

(92).  Near  Salinas  railway  station.  This  specimen  has 
a  tufaceous  aspect,  and  is  harder  than  the  finger-nail,  but, 
as  it  does  not  effervesce  with  acids,  cannot  be  a  carbonate ; 
possibly  it  is  anhydrite. 

(4)  From  the  Western  Face  of  the  Peak  op 
Aconcagua 

These  specimens  were  collected,  not  from  rocks  in  situ, 
but  from  the  great  slopes  of  debris  which  cover  so  much 
of  the  mountain,  and  are  traversed  during  the  upper  part 
of  the  ascent.  On  this  account,  and  as  their  general  char- 
acter was  readily  ascertained  by  study  with  a  lens,  1 
have  contented  myself  with  an  occasional  examination  of 
the  powder.  While  the  varietal  differences  are  numer- 
ous, as  might  be  anticipated  in  samples  from  a  number 
of  successive  lava  flows,  they  all  represent  one  group, 
the  andesites,  and  it  is  interesting  to  observe  the  general 
absence  of  scoriae  and  even  of  vesicles.  1  was  struck 
with  this  fact  in  examining  the  specimens  brought  from 
Aconcagua  by  Messrs.  FitzGerald  and  Vines,  and  called 
attention  to  it  in  the  note  contributed  to  their  volume,* 
because  1  had  reason  to  think  that  their  collection,  though 
a  small  one,  was  likely  to  be  representative.  The  speci- 
mens also  fully  bear  out  an  interesting  observation  made 
by  Sir  Martin  Conway,  that  the  fragments  in  this  debris 
were  often  more  or  less  subangular.  This,  no  doubt,  is 
due  to  their   rubbing,   one   against   another,   in  sliding 

*  The  Highest  Andes,  p.  331. 
379 


APPENDIX 

down  the  mountain-side.  On  a  lofty  peak,  such  as  Acon- 
cagua, subject  to  great  variations  of  temperature,  the 
movement  of  loose  debris  probably  is  much  increased  by 
the  action  of  snow,  in  the  same  way  as  was  suggested  by 
Professors  A.  C.  Ramsay  and  J.  Geikie  in  the  case  of 
certain  breccias  on  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar.* 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  specimens : 

(i).  Andesite,  containing  a  little  brown  hornblende.  On 
one  face  (doubtless  a  joint)  small  crystals  of  idocrase  are 
rather  numerous,  some  a  yellow-brown  in  color,  others 
more  yellow. 

(2).  A  subangular  piece  of  gypsum  with  some  superficial 
red  stains  (hematite). 

(3) .  Small  and  rather  flat  fragments,  cream  white  in  color, 
apparently  representing  a  compact  trachyte  (probably 
andesite),  in  a  very  decomposed  state. 

(4).  (S)-  Small  and  irregular-shaped  fragments,  of  a 
greenish  color,  probably  due  to  malachite;  one  being  com- 
pact, the  other  porphyritic.  Two  of  the  latter  contain 
crystals  (up  to  about  Ys  inch  diameter)  of  a  blackish  min- 
eral, which  proves  to  be  a  very  dark  hornblende  with  a 
rather  small  extinction  angle;  the  same  mineral,  but  of  a 
smaller  size,  occurs  in  others.  They  are  varieties,  rather 
decomposed,  of  andesites,  mostly  hornblendic. 

(6).  Part  of  a  rather  smoothed  subangular  fragment  of  a 
compact  olive-green  rock,  in  which  are  some  very  small 
dark  prisms.  Probably  a  homblende-andesite,  slightly 
stained  with  malachite. 

(7).  An  elongated  triangular  fragment,  defined  by  joint 
faces,  showing  some  very  small  crystals  of  felspar  in  a 
compact  matrix.     An  andesite. 

(8),  (9).  Small  fragments  of  a  rather  dark,  finely  speckled 
andesite,  "powdered"  in  places  with  a  minute,  yellow- 
green  mineral  (epidote?). 

(10).  A  small  flat  chip  of  a  dark  andesite,  partly  coated 
with  a  greenish  mineral.     Probably  epidote. 

*  Quart.  Jour.  Geol.  Soc,  vol.  xxiv.  (1878),  p.  515,  etc. 
380 


APPENDIX 

(ii),  (12).  Compact  dark-gray  andesites. 

(13),  (14).  Dark  but  finely  speckled  augite-andesites,  as 
proved  by  examining  the  powder  from  one  under  the 
microscope. 

(15),  (16).  Minutely  speckled  andesites,  very  decomposed, 
with  external  stains  of  limonite. 

(17).  The  groundmass  is  compact,  and  a  rather  dark 
gray  color.  It  contains  crystals  of  a  dead-white  felspar, 
probably  plagioclase,  up  to  Ys  inch  diameter,  with  a  few, 
smaller  in  size,  of  a  dark  pyroxene,  probably  hornblende. 
A  variety  of  andesite. 

(18).  A  very  similar  rock,  but  with  a  dull  reddish  ground- 
mass.  The  spots  of  the  dark  pyroxene  are  fewer  and  small- 
er.    Andesite. 

(19).  Similar  to  (17)  and  (18);  but  with  a  greenish-gray 
groundmass,  little  of  the  pyroxenic  constituent,  and  some 
specks  of  pyrite.  The  felspar  as  before,  but  it  contains 
some  granules  of  epidote(?).     Andesite. 

(20).  The  groundmass  is  a  dull  purplish  color,  the  min- 
erals in  visible  crystals  are  smaller,  the  felspars  whitish, 
being  generally  rather  more  elongated ;  the  dark  constituent, 
smaller  in  size  but  more  abundant,  proves  to  be  a  rich 
brown-colored  hornblende.     A  hornblende-andesite. 

(21).  A  gray  groundmass,  in  which  small  crystals  are 
fairly  abundant,  representing  the  following  minerals: 
(a)  white  felspar;  {b)  a  blackish  pyroxenic  mineral,  often 
columnar  in  form,  not  seldom  nearly  %  inch  in  length,  and 
in  one  case  rather  more;  mostly,  if  not  wholly,  horn- 
blende.    A  hornblende-andesite. 

(22).  A  similar  groundmass,  but  the  felspars  are  slightly 
fewer  and  smaller.  The  hornblende,  however,  is  quite 
as  abundant,  is  more  frequently  columnar,  and  shows 
traces  of  a  parallel  ordering.     Hornblende-andesite. 

{2^).  Resembles  the  last  two,  but  the  felspars  are 
larger,  nearly  attaining  to  %  inch,  the  hornblende  as 
in  {22),  but  without  the  fluxional  structure.  Hornblende- 
andesite. 

(24),  (25).  Probably  from  one  mass ;  presenting  a  general 

381 


APPENDIX 

resemblance  to  the  last  three ;  perhaps  most  closely  allied 
to  (23),  but  considerably  more  decomposed. 

All  these  rocks,  (17)  to  (25),  are  closely  related  varieties 
of  andesites,  but  1  should  expect  them  to  represent  at  least 
three  distinct  masses  of  lava. 

(26).  A  pale,  slightly  purplish,  gray -colored,  compact 
groundmass,  including  many  small  crystalline  grains  of 
white  felspar  and  a  few  of  pyroxene.  The  rock  is  an 
andesite,  obviously  decomposed,  and  speckled  with  minute 
pyrite. 

(27)— (31).  Pieces  of  compact  dull  purplish-red  lava,  one  or 
two  showing  a  few  very  small  cavities ;  another  contains 
two  or  three  stout  crystals  of  hornblende,  almost  %  inch 
long,  and  yet  another  many  minute  crystals  of  felspar. 
Varieties  of  andesite. 

(ifZ).  A  block  rather  irregular  in  form,  about  4  inches 
in  the  longest  diameter,  brick-red  in  color,  with  indications 
of  minute  felspar  and  of  some  hornblende.  A  rather 
decomposed  andesite.  There  are  some  small  external 
patches  of  a  soft  black  mineral  with  metallic  lustre — 
stibnite(?). 

(33) .  A  fragment,  considerably  less  than  a  cubic  inch, 
of  a  reddish-brown  color  resembling  a  chert  or  possibly  a 
pitchstone.  This  I  have  examined  under  the  microscope. 
The  slice  includes  on  one  side  a  small  piece  of  andesite, 
with  little  crystals  of  plagioclase,  in  a  groundmass  of 
microliths  of  the  same  and  ferruginous  specks,  together 
with  a  limited  amount  of  glassy  base  showing  traces  of 
devitrification.  The  remainder  of  the  slice  consists  of  an 
irregular,  sometimes  labyrinthic,  sponge-like  structure  of 
a  reddish  to  very  dark-brown  material,  associated  gen- 
erally with  a  thin  outer  band  of  light-yellow  or  occasion- 
ally reddish-brown  color  (the  latter,  when  both  are  present, 
being  the  exterior  one).  The  interspaces  are  filled  with 
a  clear  mineral.  Between  crossed  nicols  this  proves  to  be 
chalcedonic  quartz,  with  a  slightly  radial  arrangement, 
and  the  yellowish  or  reddish  bands  to  be  also  chalcedony, 
but  iron-stained.     I  think  this  specimen  to  be  a  piece  of 

382 


APPENDIX 

rather  basic  scoria,  which  has  included  a  fragment  of 
andesite,  and  in  which  chalcedony  has  been  afterwards 
deposited,  probably  as  a  result  of  solfataric  action;  or, 
in  other  words,  it  is  a  specimen  of  silicified  scoria. 

The  general  absence  of  scoria,  as  already  mentioned, 
is  noteworthy,  especially  in  a  mountain  of  such  great 
elevation.  No  doubt  Aconcagua  has  suffered  much  from 
denudation,  and  the  lighter  materials,  which  hardly  can  fail 
to  have  entered  into  the  composition  of  its  crater  ring,  have 
been  swept  away.  But  even  if  we  allow  for  this,  lava 
flows  must  be  much  in  excess  of  ash,  at  any  rate  in  the 
part  which  has  been  examined  by  Messrs.  FitzGerald, 
Vines,  and  Conway.  In  these,  homblende-andesite  seems 
to  be  the  dominant  variety. 

(5)  Mount  Sarmiento,  Tierra  del  Fuego. 

(i).  A  rather  thin  slab,  measuring  approximately  3 
inches  by  2  inches,  the  broader  surfaces  indicating  a 
cleavage-foliation,  and  of  a  grayish-green  or  olive  color; 
apparently  a  gneiss  or  a  rather  micaceous  schist,  which 
has  undergone  great  pressure.  This  inference  is  confirmed 
by  microscopic  examination:  the  rock  has  been  much 
crushed  and  has  afterwards  been  recemented.  It  was  orig- 
inally crystalline,  banded,  and  probably  traversed  by 
small  quartz-veins.  More  felspathic  or  micaceous  layers 
once  alternated  with  more  quartzose,  the  latter  now  forming 
more  or  less  irregular,  often  crumpled,  streaks.  The  former 
consist  of  a  fine-grained  mixture  of  a  micaceous  mineral 
with  granules,  mostly  earthy,  but  in  part  water-clear. 
The  flakes  vary  from  a  rather  pale  dull  green  to  almost 
colorless,  the  one  being  very  feebly  pleochroic,  and 
giving  dull  tints  with  crossed  nicols,  while  the  other  pro- 
duce more  brilliant  tints  and  resemble  an  ordinary  white 
mica.  Probably  they  are  all  varieties  of  a  hydrous  mica, 
but  perhaps  in  some  cases  a  chlorite  may  be  present.  Simi- 
lar flakes  also  occur  in  the  more  quartzose  streaks.  In 
these  the  water -clear  mineral,  commonly,  when  quartz 

383 


APPENDIX 

(though  a  secondary  felspar  may  also  be  present),  is  rather 
polygonal  in  outline  and  exhibits  a  distinct  grouping; 
the  grains,  like  the  flakes,  varying  in  diameter  from  about 
,003  to  .001  inch;  occasionally,  though  rarely,  being  as 
much  as  .005  inch.  These  show  a  distinct  grouping  by 
size;  the  larger,  which  are  more  free  from  mica,  probably 
representing  original  veins;  the  smaller,  in  which  it  is 
more  abundant,  the  more  quartzose  layers  of  the  original 
rock.  The  earthy  granules,  on  examination  with  a  high 
power,  appear  to  be  decomposition  products  from  felspar, 
with  some  epidote,  which  mineral  occasionally  occurs  in 
rather  more  distinct  grains.  A  somewhat  rounded  zircon 
is  also  to  be  seen.  On  the  whole,  a  pressure-modified  mica- 
schist  seems  the  best  name  for  this  specimen. 

(2).  A  fine-grained  rock,  speckled  greenish  white  and  dull 
green,  with  faint  indications  of  foliation,  resembling  a 
diabase  or  diorite,  somewhat  pressure  -  modified.  The 
microscope  shows  that  it  consists  of  a  pale -green  horn- 
blende, in  not  very  well-formed  crystals,  which  vary  con- 
siderably in  size  (the  larger  being  rather  rich  in  small 
enclosures),  together  with  epidote,  white  mica,  perhaps 
some  chlorite,  and  possibly  a  few  grains  of  secondary 
felspar.  The  rock  is  slightly  foliated,  has  probably  been 
somewhat  affected  by  pressure,  and  is  an  altered  diorite, 
which  may  once  have  been  a  dolerite. 

(3).  A  rather  pyramidal  specimen,  probably  bounded  by 
irregular  joint  surfaces,  deeply  stained  with  limonite. 
On  chipping  away  a  corner,  the  rock  is  found  to  be  holo- 
crystalline,  moderately  coarse,  consisting  mainly  of  de- 
composed felspar  and  a  somewhat  altered  biotite.  It  is 
hardly  sufficiently  well  preserved  to  be  worth  slicing, 
but  it  appears  to  be  either  a  mica-syenite  or  a  mica-diorite. 

(4).  A  holocrystalline  rock,  having  a  rather  dark  but 
speckled  matrix,  in  which  are  scattered  (with  a  slight 
fluxional  ordering)  whitish  crystals,  apparently  of  felspar, 
with  a  rather  irregular  outline ;  the  former  seemingly  con- 
sisting of  this  mineral  and  a  dark-green  hornblende,  with 
some  specks  of  pyrite.     On  microscopic  examination,  it 

384 


APPENDIX 

becomes  evident  that  the  rock  has  undergone  considerable 
secondary  change,  initiated  possibly  by  pressure ;  for  the 
outlines  of  all  the  principal  constituents  are  more  or  less 
irregular.  In  the  matrix,  the  felspars  have  undergone 
much  molecular  rearrangement ;  small  granules,  probably 
in  part  epidote,  in  part  kaolinitic,  having  formed,  with 
occasionally  a  water -clear  mineral  resembling  quartz, 
which,  however,  may  in  some  cases  be  a  secondary  felspar. 
The  hornblende  is  of  a  pale-green  color,  not  unfrequently 
speckled  with  granules,  apparently  of  epidote,  having  also 
flakelets  of  brown  mica,  and  rather  larger  flakes  of  the 
latter  developed  around  the  edges,  as  if  formed  at  the 
expense  of  the  hornblende  and  the  felspar.  The  larger 
crystals,  which  to  the  unaided  eye  appear  to  be  the  latter 
mineral,  are  found  to  be  mainly  composed  of  microliths. 
The  majority  are  rudely  prismatic  in  form,  inclining  some- 
times to  flaky.  At  first  sight  two  minerals  apparently 
are  present :  one,  a  fairly  normal  epidote ;  the  other,  rather 
less  regular  in  form,  giving  low  blue  polarization  tints,  but, 
as  the  one  sometimes  seems  to  pass  into  the  other  in  the 
same  crystallite,  I  doubt  whether  the  difference  indicates 
more  than  some  slight  variety  in  composition.  With 
them  a  little  white  mica  and  residual  felspar  (?)  is  associat- 
ed. Pyrite  happens  not  to  be  present,  but  there  is  a  de- 
composed iron  oxide,  which,  as  it  is  associated  with  brown 
granules  resembling  sphene,  probably  represents  ilmenite. 
Thus  the  rock  is  a  modified  diorite. 

Examination  with  the  microscope  confirms  the  impression 
which  was  formed  from  the  hand  specimens ;  namely,  that 
this  is  a  group  of  rocks  of  considerable  antiquity,  long 
anterior  to  the  date  of  the  ordinary  lavas  and  scoriae  of  the 
Andean  chain.  They  have  been  affected  by  the  great 
earth  movements  which  have  given  it  birth,  and  belong  to 
the  folded  mass  of  older  crystalline  and  sedimentary  rocks, 
which  serve  as  a  foundation  to  the  newer  volcanic  summits. 
Mount  Sarmiento  not  improbably  belongs  to  the  same  part 
of  the  great  mountain  system  of  South  America  as  the 
eastern  range  of  the  Bolivian  Andes  (explored  by  Sir 
2B  385  ^ 


APPENDIX 

William  Martin  Conway),  and  we  must  remember  that  Mr. 
Whymper  found  Sara-urcu  (15,502  feet),  in  the  eastern- 
most range  of  the  Ecuadorian  Andes,  to  consist  wholly  of 
metamorphic  rocks.* 


ON  SOME   PALEOZOIC  FOSSILS  FROM   BOLIVIA 

OBTAINED  BY  SIR  WILLIAM  MARTIN 

CONWAY 

By  R.  BULLEN  NEWTON,  F.G.S.,  British  Museum 

Among  the  geological  specimens  collected  by  Sir  William 
Martin  Conway  in  Bolivia  are  two  rocks  exhibiting  cer- 
tain organisms  which  have  been  submitted  to  the  writer 
for  determination.  The  largest  of  these  is  a  tabular  mass 
of  micaceous,  gray  sandstone,  measuring  5  by  6  inches 
in  extent,  and  having  a  thickness  of  I  ]^  inches.  Its  struct- 
ure is  impregnated  with  minute  speckles  of  what  appears 
to  be  limonite,  and  a  similar  material  fills  up  the  numerous 
fine  veins  which  intersect  the  slab  in  all  directions.  On 
the  upper  surface  occur  the  fossils;  these  consisting  of 
Brachiopod  -  shell  impressions,  together  with  some  other 
remains  which,  on  account  of  their  fragmentary  nature 
and  bad  preservation,  are  a  good  deal  problematical,  al- 
though they  apparently  belong  to  a  crustacean  or  a  fish. 
It  is  through  the  Brachiopods,  however,  that  the  age  of 
the  sandstone  can  be  furnished,  since  one  of  the  examples 
is  identifiable  as  Anoplotheca  flabellites,  a  characteristic 
species  of  Lower  Devonian  rocks  of  both  North  and  South 
America,  the  Falkland  Islands,  and  South  Africa.  A 
further  Brachiopod  valve  is  also  observable,  which  appears 
to  belong  to  the  genus  Atrypa  (?) ;  but  this  as  well  as  the 
other  specimens  will  be  subsequently  referred  to  under  more 
detailed  observations.  The  locality  of  the  sandstone,  as 
given  by  Sir  William  Martin  Conway,  is  as  follows :  "  In 

*See  Proc.  Roy.  Soc,  No.  234  (1884),  for  descriptions  of  the  speci- 
mens and  references  to  similar  occurrences  in  the  Andes. 

386 


APPENDIX 

situ,  on  ascent  of  spur  of  Cacaaca,  in  crossing  from  Milluni 
to  Huaina  Potosi  mine '' ;  at  a  height  of  16,500  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  The  other  rock  specimen  is  a  thin 
fragment  of  dark  slaty-shale,  tinged  superficially  with 
a  reddish  brown  color.  One  of  its  surfaces  is  covered  with 
the  valves  of  a  small  Brachiopod,  all  in  an  extremely 
compressed  state,  and  presenting  resemblances  to  the 
genus  Orthotetes.  It  was  obtained  at  ''Cerro  Antajahua, 
Mina  Milluni,  La  Paz/'  and  is  probably  of  Devonian  age. 

One  of  the  most  valuable  contributions  on  the  Palaeozoic 
fossils  of  Bolivia  was  furnished  by  Dr.  A.  Ulrich  in  1892, 
from  some  rich  material  supplied  him  by  Dr.  G.  Steinmann. 
Ulrich  demonstrated  that  the  clay-slates  and  sandstones, 
so  widely  distributed  over  Bolivia  and  Brazil,  could  be 
synchronized  with  the  Oriskany  sandstone,  the  Upper 
Helderberg  and  the  Hamilton  groups  of  North  America, 
on  account  of  the  occurrence  of  such  typical  Brachiopods 
as  Anoplotheca  flabellites  and  Vitulina  pustulosa.  From 
similar  data  he  also  traced  an  analogy  between  these 
Bolivian  deposits  and  those  of  Brazil,  the  Falkland  Isl- 
ands, and  South  Africa. 

Several  other  authors  have  written  on  the  palaeontology 
of  Bolivia,  but  without  reviewing  their  works  it  may  be 
of  interest  to  append  the  following  list  of  memoirs  on  this 
subject : 

Derby,  O.  A. — "Notice  of  the  Palaeozoic  Fossils  (from  Lake 
Titicaca) ;  with  notes  by  Alexander  Agassiz."  Bull.  Mus.  Comp. 
Zoology,  Harvard  College,  1876.     Vol.  iii.,  No.  12,  pp.  279-286. 

Forbes,  David — "  On  the  Geology  of  Bolivia  and  Southern  Peru." 
Quart.  Journ.  Geol.  Soc,  1861.  Vol.  xvii.,  p.  762  (with  geological 
map). 

GABB,  W.  M. — "  Description  of  a  Collection  of  Fossils,  made  by 
Dr.  Antonio  Raimondi,  in  Peru."  Journ.  Acad.  Nat.  Sci.,  Philadel- 
phia, 1877,  new  series.     Vol.  viii.,  part  iii.,  p.  302. 

KAYSER,  E. — "Beitrage  zur  Kenntniss  einiger  palaozoischer  Faun- 
ien  von  Siid-Amerika."  (a)  Devonische  Versteinerungen  vom  Titica- 
casee."     Zeitschr.  Deutsch.  Geol.  Ges.,  1897.     Vol.  xlix.,  pi.  12,  p.  303. 

Orbigny,  Alcide  D'. — "Voyage  dans  I'Amerique  Meridionale 
(La  Republique  de  Bolivia,  etc.)"  Paleontologie  et  Giologie,  1842. 
Vol.  iii.,  parts  iii.  and  iv. 

387 


APPENDIX 

Salter,  J.  W.— "  On  the  Fossils  from  the  High  Andes  (Bolivia) 
collected  by  David  Forbes."  Quart.  Journ,  Geol.  Soc,  1861.  Vol. 
xvii.,  pp.  62-73,  pis.  4  and  5  (Palaeozoic  Fossils). 

Steinmann,  G. — "  Zur  Kenntniss  der  Jura-  und  Kreideformation 
von  Caracoles  (Bolivia)."  Neues  Jahrhuch,  1881,  Beilage  Band  i, 
pp.  239-301,  pis.  9-14. 

Steinmann,  G.— "A  Sketch  of  the  Geology  of  South  America." 
American  Naturalist,  1891,  p.  585. 

Ulrich,  a. — "  Palaozoische  Versteinerungen  aus  Bolivien,"  in 
"  Beitrage  zur  Geologic  und  Palaontologie  von  Siidamerika  "  (edited 
by  G.  Steinmann).  Neues  Jahrbuch,  1892,  Beilage  Band  8,  p.  116, 
pis.  1-5. 

DESCRIPTIONS  OF  THE  SANDSTONE  FOSSILS 

Brachiopoda 
Anoplotheca  flabellites. — Conrad.    (See  fig.  i,  page  389.) 

Atrypa  Flabellites.  Conrad.  Fifth  Ann.  Rep.,  New  York 
Geological  Survey,   1841,  p.   55.      (Not  figured.)     (North  America.) 

(?)  Terebratula  Peruviana.  D'Orbigny.  Voy.  Amerique 
Merid.,  1842.  Vol.  iii.,  part  iv.,  p.  36;  vol.  viii.,  pi.  2,  figs.  22-25 
(==Bolivia) . 

Atrypa  Palmata.  Morris  and  Sharpe.  Quart.  Journ.  Geol. 
Soc,  1846.     Vol.  ii.^  pi.  10,  fig.  3,  p.  276.     (Falkland  Islands.) 

Orthis  Palmata.  Sharpe.  Trans.  Geol.  Soc,  London,  1856. 
Ser.  ii.,  vol.  vii.,  pi.  26,  figs.  7-10,  p.  207.     (South  Africa.) 

Leptoccelia  Flabellites.  Hall.  Pal.  New  York,  1859.  Vol. 
iii.,  pi.  1036,  fig.  I,  pi.  106,  fig.  I,  p.  449.     (North  America.) 

Orthis  Aymara.  Salter.  Quart.  Journ.  Geol.  Soc,  1861.  Vol. 
xvii.,  pi.  4,  fig.  14,  p.  68.     (Bolivia.) 

Leptoccelia  Acutiplicata.  Hall.  Pal.  New  York,  1867.  Vol. 
iv.,  pi.  57,  figs.  30-39,  p.  367. 

Leptoccelia  Flabellites.  Ulrich.  Beitr.  Geol.  Pal.  Sad-, 
amerika — Palaozoische  Versteinerungen  von  Bolivien,  1892.  PI.  4,  figs. 
9-13,  p.  60,     (Boliyia.) 

Leptoccelia  Flabellites.    Hall  and  Clarke.   Pal.  New  York, 

1893.     Vol.  viii.,  part  ii.,  pi.  53,  figs.  40-46,  53,  p.  137. 

Anoplotheca  Flabellites.  Schuchert.  Bull.  U.  S.  Geol. 
Survey,  No.  87,  1897,  p.  144. 

This  form,  as  represented  by  Sir  William  Martin  Con- 
way's specimen,  appears  to  be  an  external  view  of  the 
dorsal  or  smaller  valve,  exhibiting  an  orbicular  contour, 
and  ornamented  with  twelve  rather  rounded  ribs,  of  which 
the  two  or  three  central  ones  thicken  out  in  the  anterior 

388 


BOLIVIAN  FOSSILS 


FIG.  I 

ANOPLOTHECA  FLABELLITES 
Conrad  sp. 


ATRYPA    ?     sp. 


FIG.  3 

SANDSTONE  SLAB  EXHIBITING  FOSSIL  REMAINS  ON  ITS  SURFACE 

A  =  Anoplotheca  FLABELLITES  (cxterior  of  dorsal  valve). 

B  =  Ditto  (an  impression  oi:  the  anterior  half  of  a  smaller  valve). 

C  =  Atrvpa  ?  sp. 

D  =  Fragmentary  head  of  shield  of  probably  a  Trilobite  or  Cephalaspidian  fish  with  a  pos- 

tero-lateral  comu. 
E  =  Marginal  rim  of  a  head-shield  belonging  to  a  similar  organism  and  showing  obscure 
F  )  linear  striations. 

G  }  Evenly  margined,  oval,  and  oblong  excavations  ©f  doubtful  origin. 


HAT 

FIG.  4 


FIG.  5 


ORTHOTETES     SP. 


APPENDIX 

direction.  Under  a  favorable  light,  obscure  indications 
seem  to  be  present  of  concentric  striations  decorating  the 
ribs.  The  flabellate  character  of  the  species  is  well  ex- 
pressed in  the  specimen. 

Dimensions — Length  =  12  )      ^^^^      , 

TTf  1x1  c  millimetres. 

Width  =  12) 

Conrad  originally  recorded  this  species  from  the  Oriskany 
sandstone  of  North  America,  but  through  the  researches 
of  Ulrich  and  other  writers  it  is  now  recognized  from  the 
Devonian  beds  of  South  American  countries,  the  Falk- 
land Islands,  and  South  Africa,  although  not  known  as  a 
European  form.  The  genus  suggested  for  the  species 
on  this  occasion  is  that  adopted  by  Dr.  Schuchert,  one 
of  the  latest  authorities  on  systematic  Brachiopoda. 

Atrypa  (?)  (See  fig.  2,  page  389.) 
Under  this  genus  a  rather  doubtful  impression  is  in- 
cluded. The  specimen  is  elongate,  slightly  convex,  and 
with  moderately  oblique  sides ;  its  ornamentation  consists 
of  three  or  four  prominently  raised  ribs,  which  appear  to 
trifurcate,  these  main  ribs  being  separated  by  fairly  wide 
grooves.  There  are  no  indications  of  transverse  sculpt- 
uring, and  in  the  absence  of  such  a  character  it  is  possible, 
as  my  colleague.  Dr.  F.  A.  Bather,  points  out,  that  this 
valve  may  belong  to  the  genus  Spirifer,  and  not  to  Atrypa, 
although  in  some  of  its  characters  there  is  a  resemblance 
to  such  forms  of  this  genus  as  Atrypa  marginalis  (Dal- 
man).  The  specimen  has  the  beak  curved  inward,  and  it 
probably  represents  the  pedicle  (or  ventral)  valve. 

Dimensions — Length  =  20  )      m,.      , 

TXT- iii  o  c  millimetres. 

Width  =  18  S 

Problematical  Organisms 
The  problematical  remains,  previously  mentioned,  now 
require  to  be  considered.  They  resemble  portions  of 
head-shields  which  may  have  belonged  to  either  a  crus- 
tacean or  a  fish.  One  is  furnished  with  a  long,  lateral, 
tapering  spine,  forming  the  produced  extremity  of  what 

390 


APPENDIX 

appears  to  be  the  cheek-surface  of  a  trilobite  or  a  ceph- 
alaspidian  fish  ;  the  other  represents  a  rim  or  margin 
of  a  possible  head-shield  of  a  similar  organism,  showing 
obscure-linear  striations.  Adjacent  to  this  last-mentioned 
fragment  are  some  curiously  excavated  spaces,  which 
seem  to  be  connected  with  it,  from  the  fact  that  they  ex- 
hibit perfectly  even  margins.  Those  lying  close  to  the 
rim  are  of  oval  design,  whereas  another  is  of  oblong  shape, 
with  the  lateral  margins  narrowing  slightly  towards  the 
rounder  excavations.  Neither  Dr.  Traquair  nor  Dr.  A. 
S.  Woodward  are  able  to  acknowledge  definitely  that  these 
remains  belong  to  the  fish -group  of  animals,  although 
the  latter  thinks  there  is  a  resemblance  in  that  direction. 
It  is,  of  course,  more  probable  that  they  should  be  crus- 
tacean, since  trilobites  have  been  described  from  Bolivia, 
and  no  vertebrates,  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  have  yet 
been  recorded  from  the  Devonian  rocks  of  that  country. 

Therefore,  as  these  curious  bodies  offer  no  structure  of 
sufficient  importance  to  connect  them  decidedly  with  any 
known  fossil,  we  must  await  further  collections  from  this 
sandstone  formation  before  a  more  accurate  statement 
can  be  made  regarding  them. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  mention,  however,  that  a  similarly 
spined  fossil  of  doubtful  affinity  from  the  Palaeozoic  rocks 
of  Bolivia  was  described  by  Salter'  in  1 86 1  as  Boliviana 
bipennis ;  although  it  need  not  be  mistaken  for  the  present 
specimen,  as  it  differs  in  possessing  surface  ridgings  and 
furrows,  besides  in  other  details  appearing  to  be  an  entirely 
separate  organism.     (See  fig.  3,  page  389.) 

DESCRIPTION  OF  FOSSILS  ON  THE  SPECIMEN  OF  SLATY 

SHALE 

Brachiopoda 

Orthotetes  sp.     (See  figs.  4  and  5,  page  389.) 

The  dark  slaty-shale  rock  exhibits  several  compressed 

casts  of  Brachiopod-valves  which  probably  belong  to  a 

*  Quart.  Journ.  Geol.  Soc,  1861,  vol.  xvii.,  pi.  5,  fig.  11,  p.  72. 


APPENDIX 

species  of  Orthotetes.  Unfortunately,  the  reddish-brown 
surface  of  the  matrix  serves  to  obscure  the  specimens, 
and  it  is  only  by  the  aid  of  a  lens  and  a  good  bright  light 
that  they  can  be  traced  out.  In  shape  they  are  transverse- 
ly oblong,  and  their  sculpturing  consists  of  numerous 
fine,  closely  set  ribs  which  bifurcate  a  little  below  the 
centre  of  the  valve.  There  are  indications  also  that  the 
ribbing  is  crossed  by  delicate  concentric  striations,  which 
would  suggest  relationship  to  such  a  form  as  Orthotetes 
umbraculum  (Schlotheim).  The  hinge  is  long  and  straight, 
but  whether  the  cardinal  angles  are  rounded  or  not  is  some- 
what difficult  to  discern,  either  on  account  of  imperfect 
margins  or  because  the  impressions  are  rather  crowded 
and  frequently  overlap  each  other.  A  general  resem- 
blance may  also  be  noticed  to  Orthotetes  sp.  A.  of  Ulrich,* 
a  form  from  the  same  horizon  and  country,  although  not 
showing  the  striated  character  of  the  ribs. 
Dimensions — Length  =13)      .„.      , 

Width=   9 1  millimetres. 


LIST  OF  PLANTS  COLLECTED  BY  SIR  WILLIAM 

MARTIN  CONWAY  IN  THE  BOLIVIAN 

ANDES— 1898-99. 

Ranunculace^. 

Anemone  integrifolia,  H.  B.  K. 

37.  Near  the  top  of  Huallata  Pass,  14,110  ft. 
65.  The  Puna — "Common  fuel-moss.'' 
Crucifer^. 

Draba  affinis,  Hook  f.(?) 

This  very  meagre  specimen  was  mixed  with  Werneria 
pygmaea,  Gill.(?),  and  Saxifraga  Cordillerarum, 
Presl,  from  the  neighborhood  of  Rocktooth  Camp, 
Mount  Sorata,  at  about  18,000  ft. 

*"Beitr.  Geol.  Pal.  Siid-Amerika/'  Paldozoische  Versteinerungen 
von  Bolivien,  1892,  pi.  4,  fig.  30,  p.  76. 


APPENDIX 

VlOLACE^. 

Viola  pygmaea,  Juss. 

38.  Near  the  top  of  Huallata  Pass,  14,110  ft. 
Caryophyllace^. 

Cerastium  fnucronatum,  Wedd. 
6.  Illimani,  camp  3,  16,500  ft. 
Hypericace^. 
Hypericum  thesiifolium,  H.  B.  K. 

48.  High  up  on  the  south  side  of  Huallata  Pass,  at 
about  14,000  ft. 
Malvaceae. 
Malvastrum  flabellatum,  Wedd. 

35.  On  ascent  from  Hiska  Haukafia  to  Rocktooth 
Camp,  at  about  18,700  ft. 
Geraniace^. 

Er odium  cicutarium,,  L'H^rit. 

63.  La  Paz  race-course ;  18,  Umapusa,  14,270  ft. 
Oxalis  lotoides,  H.  B.  K. 

46.  High  up  on  south  side  of  Huallata  Pass. 
Leguminos^. 

Adesm,ia  spinosissima,  Meyen. 

54.  Hiska  Haukana  and  neighborhood. 
Astragalus  unifiorus,  DC. 

39.  Near  the  top  of  Huallata  Pass,  14,110  ft. 
Medicago  denticulata,  Willd. 

64.  La  Paz ;  on  the  race-course  (introduced). 
Lupinus  sp. 

9.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  14,000  ft. 
Saxifragace^. 

Saxifraga    Cordillerarum,    Presl,    var.    trigyna,    Eng- 
ler. 
Near  Rocktooth  Camp,  about  18,000  ft. 
LOASACE^. 

Blum£nbachia  chuquitensis,  Hook,  f . 
2:^.  Frasciya,  15,000  ft. 
Cactace^. 

Echinocactus  sp. 

16.  Umapusa,  14,270  ft. 

393 


APPENDIX 

Umbellifer^. 
Azorella  diapensioides,  A.  Gray. 
65.  Vilahaque  Hill,  about  14,500  ft. 
Valerianace^. 

Valeriana  nivalis,  Wedd. 
34.  On  the  ascent  from  Hiska  Haukafia  to  Rocktooth 
Camp,  about  18,000  ft. ;  common ;  52,  Puna. 
Composite. 

Aster  limnophilus,  Hemsl.  and  H.  H.  W.  Pearson. 

28.  Hiska  Haukafia,  at  about  16,500  ft. 
Baccharis  genistelloides,  Pers. 

8.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Baccharis  subpenninervis,  Sch.-Bip. 

10.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Baccharis  alpina,  Wedd.(?) 

24.  Frasciya,  about  15,000  ft. 
Baccharis  microphylla,  H.  B.  K. 

11.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Erigeron  Brittonianum,  Rusby. 

36.  Hiska  Haukana;  44,  High  up  on  the  south  side  of 
Huallata  Pass. 
Senecio  adenophylloides,  Sch.-Bip. 

4.  Illimani,  on  moraine,  at  about  16,000  ft. 
Senecio  linearifolius,  Poepp.  ( ?) 

25.  Frasciya,  at  about  15,000  ft. 
Senecio  sp. 

13.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Werner ia  dactylophylla,  Sch.-Bip. 

^2.  On  ascent  from   Hiska   Haukana  to  Rocktooth 
Camp,  at  about  18,000  ft. 
Werneria  Mandoniana,  Wedd. 

29,  30,  and  31.     On  ascent  from  Hiska  Haukana  to 
Rocktooth  Camp,  at  about  18,000  ft. 

Werneria  pygmaea,  Gill. 

21.  Umapusa,  14,270  ft.,  and  without  number,  near 
Rocktooth  Camp,  about  18,000  ft. 
Werneria  heteroloba,  Wedd. 
51.  Puna. 

394 


APPENDIX 

Barnadesia  polyacantha,  Wedd. 

40.  On  the  way  down  towards  Sorata. 
Perezia  caerulescens,  Wedd. 

2.  lUimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. ;  56,  Hiska 
Haukafia  and  neighborhood,  at  about  16,000  ft. 
Hypochaeris  sessiliflora,  H.  B.  K. 

55.  Hiska  Haukafia  and  neighborhood;    61,  South 
slope  of  Huallata  Pass. 
Campanulac^. 

Lobelia  nana,  H.  B.  K. 
45.  High  up  on  south  side  of   Huallata  Pass;  59, 
Hiska  Haukafia  and  neighborhood ;  60,  Theodolite 
station  6,  Puna,  near  Achacache. 
Centropogon,  sp.  nova.? 

42.  On  the  way  down  towards  Sorata. 
Vacciniace^. 

Vaccinium  penaeoides,  H,  B.  K, 
7.  Illimani,  Camp  3,  at  16,720  ft. 
Plumbaginace^. 
Plumbago  scandens,  Linn. 

43,  44.  On  the  way  down  towards  Sorata. 
GENTIANACEvE. 

Gentiana  sedifolia,  H.  B.  K. 

I.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  about  14,000  ft. ;   20, 
22,  Umapusa,  at  about  14,500  ft. ;   50,  Puna. 
Boraginace^. 

Eritrichium,  species  indeterminata. 
62.  South  slope  of  Huallata  Pass. 
SOLANACE^. 

Solanum  pallidum,  Rusby. 
43.  On  the  way  down  towards  Sorata. 
SCROPHULARIACE^. 

Fagelia  deflexa,  0.  Kuntze. 

41.  On  the  way  down  towards  Sorata. 
Mimulus,  species  indeterminata. 

57.  HiskaHaukafiaandneighborhood,atabouti6,oooft. 
Ourisia  muscosa,  Benth. 

26.  Hiska  Haukafia,  at  about  16,500  ft. 
395 


APPENDIX 

Labiate. 
Bystropogon  canus,  Benth. 

12.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Micromeria  holiviana,  Benth. 

3.  Illimani,  near  first  camp,  at  14,000  ft. 
Amaryllidace^. 

Bomarea  glaucescens,  Baker. 

5.  lUimani,  Camp  3,  at  about  16,700  ft. 
Bomarea  glaucescens,  Baker,  var.  puberula,  Baker. 
14.  Illimani,  at  about  11,500  ft.,  just  below  Atahuail- 
lani. 
Gramine^. 

Deyeuxia  glacialis,  Wedd. 
33.  On  the  ascent  from  Hiska  Haukaiia  to  Rocktooth 
Camp,  at  about  18,000  ft. 


OTHER  COLLECTIONS 

Owing  to  absence  from  England  I  have  been  unable  to 
obtain  detailed  lists  of  these  in  time  for  publication.  All 
are  deposited  in  the  British  Museum  (Natural  History). 
The  undescribed  collections  included : 

A  number  of  birds. 

Two  human  skulls,  man  and  woman,  both  artificially 
distorted. 

Two  lizards,  Liolamus  cyanogaster  and  Lilamus  multi- 
formis, from  high  above  Umapusa. 

Four  batrachians,  Paludicola  bibronii  and  Bufo  spiru- 
lorus. 

One  fish,  Oustias  otvenii,  from  the  slopes  of  Mount  So- 
rata,  about  15,000  ft. 

Nineteen  Arachnida  and  about  fifty  insects.  "  Among 
the  beetles  collected  by  yourself  in  Bolivia,''  writes  Mr. 
Charles  0.  Waterhouse,  of  the  British  Museum,  ''there 
are  two  specimens  of  a  species  which  is  quite  new,  and 
which  I  have  described  under  the  name  of  Plastica 
polita." 

396 


APPENDIX 

Two  land  shells  were  identified  by  Mr.  E.  A.  Smith:  Epi- 
phragfnophora  estella  (d'Orbigny)  [=Helix  estella,  d'Or- 
bigny],  habitat, Illimani ;  Bulimulus  culmineus  (d'Orbigny) 
[=Bulimus  culmineus,  d'Orbigny],  habitat,  Illimani  and 
Umapusa. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  are  the  works  to  which  I  have  referred  or  attempted 
to  refer.  Some  of  them  were  inaccessible  to  me.  This  list,  of  course, 
makes  no  claim  to  be  a  complete  bibliography  of  Bolivia. 

Ahumada  Moreno,  P. — Guerra  del  Pacifico.  6  vols.  Valparaiso, 
1884-9.     Fol. 

Alcedo,  Ant.  de — Geographical  and  Historical  Dictionary  of  Amer- 
ica (G.  A.  Thompson's  edition).    5  vols.     London,  1812— 15.     4to. 

Atlas.     London,  1816.     Fol. 

Annals  of  the  Astronomical  Observatory  of  Harvard  College.  Peru- 
vian Meteorology  (S.  I.  Bailey  and  E.  C.  Pickering),  Chapter  on 
the  Configuration  and  Heights  of  the  Andes,  with  Bibliography. 
Cambridge  (Mass.),  1899.     4to. 

Aramayo,  Avelino — Proyecto  de  una  nueva  via  de  comunicacion 
entre  Bolivia  y  el  oceano  Pacifico.     London,  1863. 

Bolivia.     London,  1874. 

Arara(?) — Voyage  dans  r Amerique  meridionale.  Paris,  1809.  (Not 
in  Brit.  Mus.) 

Archivo  Boliviano — Coleccion  de  Documentos  relativos  a  la  His- 
toria  de  Bolivia,  durante  la  epoca  colonial,  con  un  catalogo  de  obras 
impresas  y  de  manuscritos  que  tratan  de  esa  parte  de  la  America 
Meridional,  publicados  por  V.  de  Ballivian  y  Roxas.  Paris,  1872, 
etc.     8vo.     In  progress. 

Ballivian,  M.  V.,  and  E.  JniAQVEZ—Diccionario  Geografico  de  la 
Republica  de  Bolivia.     La  Paz,  1890. 

Bellessort,  Andre — La  jeune  Amerique.  Chili  et  Bolivie.  Paris, 
1897.     8vo. 

BILLINGHURST,  GuiLLERMO  E. — Reconocimiento  Militar  del  Rio 
Desaguadero  y  de  la  Altaplanicie  Andina.  Lima,  1880.  Fol.  {vide 
Proc.  R.  G.  S.  1882,  p.  647.) 

Bolivia,  Foreign  Office  Reports  on — Annual  Series,  Nos. 
1053,  1499  (C.  Akers),  and  1841  (A.  St.  John). 

Bolivia,  Handbook  of— Bulletin  No.  55  of  the  Bureau  of  the 
American  Republics.     Washington,  1892.     8vo. 

Bravo,  C. — La  Patria  Boliviana:  Estado  geografico,  being  vol.  v.  of 
the  Biblioteca  Boliviana  de  Geografia  e  Historia,  La  Paz,  1894.  8vo. 

398 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Bresson,  Andre — Bolivia.     Sept  ann^es  d' explorations,  de  voyages, 

et  de  s6 jours  dans  VAmerique  australe.     Paris,  1886.     4to. 
Castelnau,  Francois  de — Expedition  dans  les  parties  centrales  de 

VAmerique  du  sud.     7  pts.     Paris,  1850-59.     8vo,  4to,  and  fol. 
Charlevoix,  Pierre  F.  X.  de — Histoire  du  Paraguay.    Paris, 

1756.     4to.     English  translation,  2  vols.     London,  1769.     8vo. 
Cisneros,   C.  B.,  and  R.  E.  GARCIA  —  Geografia  comercial  de  la 

America  del  sur.    Tercera  Entrega.    Rep.  de  Bolivia.    Lima,  1897, 

etc,     8vo.     In  progress. 
Cortes,  Manoel  Jose  —  Ensayo  sobre  la  Historia  de  Bolivia. 

Sucre,  1861. 

Bolivia.     Paris,  1875. 

Dalena,  Jose   Maria  —  Bosquejo   estadistico  de  Bolivia.     Sucre, 

1851  and  1878  (?). 
De  Bonelli,  L.  Hugh — Travels  in  Bolivia.     2  vols.     London,  1854. 

8vo. 
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Mus.)    Land  d.?     This  is  stated  to  contain  representations  of  pre- 

Inca  Bolivian  ruins  as  observed  and  drawn  in  1847  by  M.  Angrand. 
Forbes,  David — The  Aymara  Indians.     Journal  of  the  Ethnologi- 
cal Society,  new  series,  vol.  ii.,  p.  193  et  seq.     London,  1870,  8vo. 
Geology  of  Bolivia  and  S.  Peru.     Quarterly  Journal  of  the 

Geological   Society,  vol.  xvii.,  pp.    7—62,  with  map  and   sections. 

London,  1861.     8vo. 
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Grandidier,  Ernest — Voyage  dans  VAmerique  du  sud.  P4rou  et 

Bolivie.     Paris,  1861.     8vo. 
Humboldt,  Alex,  von — Aspects  of  Nature.     Translation  by  Mrs. 

Sabine.     2  vols.     London,  1849.     8vo. 
Mathews,  E.  D. — Up  the  Amazon  and  Madeira  Rivers,  through 

Bolivia  and  Peru.     London,  1879.     8vo. 
Miller,  General — Memoirs,  in  the  Service  of  the  Republic  of  Peru. 

2  vols.     London,  1829. 
Minchin,  J.  B. — Bolivia.     Proceedings  R.  Geographical  Soc.,  p.  671. 

London,  1882.     8vo. 
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Soc,  vol.  xlvii.,  p.  201.     London,  1877.     8vo. 
Orbigny,  a.  Dessalines  D' — Descripcion  geografka,  historica,  y 

estadistica  de  Bolivia.     Paris,  1845.     8vo. 
Voyage  dans  VAmerique  meridionale  de  1826  h  1833.     9  vols. 

and  atlas,     Paris,  1835-47,     4to, 
Paz  Soldan,  M.  F. — Guerra  de  Chile  contra  Peru  y  Bolivia.    La 

Paz,  1884. 
PentLAND,  J.  B, — Memoir  on  the  Andes  and  on  the  Great  Plateau. 

Journal    of  the   R.  Geographical    Soc.     London,  1835   and  1849. 

8vo.     See  also  Annates  de  Chimie  et  de  Physique,  Paris,  1829. 

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Prescott,  W.  K.— History  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru,  edited  by  J.  F. 

Kirk.     2  vols.     London,  1884.     8vo. 
QUERBEUF,  Abbe   DE  —  Lettres  edifiantes  et    curieuses   ecrites   des 

missions  Etrangeres.     26  vols.     Paris,  1780—83.     i2mo. 
Reck,  Hugo — Geographic  und  Statistik  der  Republik  Bolivia.    With 

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4to. 
Rene-Moreno,  Gabriel — Biblioteca  BoHviana.   A  bibliography  of 

Bolivia.     Santiago  de  Chile,  1879.     4to. 
Reiss,  W.,  and  A.  STtJBBh—Reisen  in  Sild.-Amerika.     Berlin,  1886, 

etc.     4to. 
and  R.  KOPPEL — Kultur  und  Industrie  siidamerikanischer 

Volker.     2  vols.     Berlin,  1889.     Fol. 
Ruck,  E.  O. — Guia  General  de  Bolivia.     Sucre,  1865. 
Squier,  E.  G. — Peru:  Incidents  of  Travel,  etc.     London,  1877.     8vo. 
Temple,  Edmond — Travels  in  Various  Parts  of  Peru,  including  a 

Year's  Residence  in  Potosi.     2  vols.     London,  1830,     8vo. 
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1866-69.     8vo. 

Travels  in  Peru  during  the  years  1838-42,    London,  1847.    8vo. 

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Bolivie,  etc.     Paris,  1879.     i2mo. 
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Weddell,  H.  a.  —  Voyage   dans   le    ord    de    la   Bolivie.      Paris, 

1853.     8vo. 
Wiener,  Charles— P^row  et  Bolivie.    Paris,  1880.    8vo. 


NDEX 


ABICHACA,  22S,  244,  249,  251,  286. 

Achacache,  168,  169,  222,  242, 
248,  255. 

Agriculture,  Indian  methods  of, 
106,   166,   275. 

Alpacas,  176. 

Alto  above  La  Paz,  74,  160, 
285,  286. 

Alto  de  Animas,  258. 

Ampato,  see  Coropuna. 

Ancohuma,  see  Sorata,  Mount. 

Antofagasta,  340. 

Antofagasta    Railway,    330-341. 

Araca   gold-mine,   268. 

Arequipa.   55-59- 

Arriero,  Bolivian,  83. 

Ascotan,  337. 

Atahuaillani,  146. 

Aymara  Indians,  69,  73,  91,  104, 
no,  156,  196,  201,  228,  243,  252, 
254,  280,  286,  2S8 ;  as  laborers, 
211,  264,  271,  275,  299;  as  por- 
ters, 107,  113,  115,  117,  119,  121, 
123,  175, 184,  239 ;  trouble  with, 
187,  211,  245,  252,  279,  285,  309. 

Ayoayo,  316. 

Azores,  the,  6. 

Ballivian,  Senor  M.  V.,  83,  159. 

Balsas,  65. 

Bandolier,    Mr.    and    Mrs.,    146, 

276,  318,  321. 
Bar-subtense  survey,  241,  254. 
Barbados,  6. 
Beni  rubber,  208. 
Bieber,  Mr.  N.  E.,  69,   162,  250, 

257-273 
Boots  for  climbing,  142. 
Bridgman,  Hon.  George,  310. 

Cacaaca,  291,  293,  294,  295, 
312. 


Caimbaya,  109,  142. 

Caimbaya  Glacier,  114,  124. 

Calacoto  Valley,  257. 

Calama,  339. 

Callao,  42. 

Canal,  ancient,  304. 

Carapata  Pass,  198. 

Carcote  volcano,  337. 

Caribbean  Sea,  the,  16. 

CarocoUo,  320. 

Cattle,  wild,  221. 

Chachani,  54,  56. 

Chagres  River,  19,  21,  23. 

Challana  Valley,  302. 

Chicha,  287. 

Chililaya,  69. 

Chulpas,  223,  244,  277,  282. 

Cloud  views,  119,  140,  164. 

Coati  Island,  68. 

Cofifee,  217. 

Cohoni,  151. 

Collana,  259. 

Colon,  16. 

Condoriri,  296,  301, 

Cordillera  Brava,  68. 

Cordillera  Rr-  ',  67. 

Coropuna,  54. 

Cotafia,  103-107. 

Culebra  Hill,  Panama,  22,  23. 

Cundall,  Mr.  F.,  7,  9,  11. 

Cusanaco  gold-mine,  262—266. 

Desaguadero  River,  64. 
Desert   coast   of  South  America, 

38,  40. 
Devils  on  mountains,  193. 
Dolmen  models,  172,  282. 

Earth-pyramids,  92,  257. 

Earthquake,  55. 

Ecuador  coast,  35. 

Execution  of  a  murderer,  288. 


20 


401 


INDEX 


FiNCA,  a  Bolivian,  104,  107. 
FitzGerald,    Mr.    E.    A.,    3,    242. 
Footgear,  142,  234. 
Fraskiya,     173,     175,     193,     ^^1, 
228. 

German  traders  abroad,  325. 
Gold-bearing    regions,    195,   219- 

221,  262,  268. 
Glacier  eating  back,  150, 
Glaciers,   ancient,    177,    178,    195, 

197,  293,  294,  297. 
Glaciers  of  Bolivia,  dry  character 

of,  116,  184. 
Gordontown,  Jamaica,  14. 
Grande,  Rio,  336. 
Guayaquil,  36. 
Guillen,    Sefior,     103,     106,     130, 

134,  141. 

Hankuma,  see  Sorata,  Mount. 

Hard,  Professor  A.  A.,  263. 

Hayti,  9. 

Hiska  Haukafia,  180. 

Huaina  Potosi  mine,  296—299. 

Huallata     Pass,     194-198,     222, 

249,  270. 
Huanchaca,  334. 
Huarina,  168. 

Illabaya,  195,  197. 

lUampu,  see  Sorata,  Mount. 

Illimani,  ascent  of,  113  et  sqq.;  der- 
ivation of  the  name,  159;  de- 
scent of,  139  et  sqq.;  high  camp, 
125;  highest  snow -field,  136; 
history  of,  85  ;  Pic  de  Paris,  115  ; 
Pico  del  Indio,  114,  133,  135, 
138 ;  summit  of,  137 ;  the  rock- 
wall,  122,  124 ;  topography  of, 
113;  views  of,  84,  90,  107,  148, 
258,  312. 

Inca  civilization,  68,  147. 

India-rubber,  cost  of  production, 
215  ;  diminishing  supply  of 
Para,  206 ;  extraction  of,  212 ; 
forests  of  Bolivia,  203-218. 

Jacmel,  9. 
Jamaica,  11-15. 

KAKA,  Rio,  220. 
Kingston,  Jamaica,  II. 


La  Paz,  74,  76,  77  et  sqq.,  226, 

288,  307,. 310. 
La  Paz  River,  great  gap  in  the 

Cordillera   mr^de   by  the,    125— 

130. 
La  Paz  Valley,  1  li,  91-102,  292. 
Leander,  H.  M.  S.,  27,  28. 
Lima,  43. 

Llamas,  176,  3 1 5,  ,26. 
Loa,  Rio,  338., 
Lurata,  102. 

MaCHACA-MAR'  A,  162, 166,  278. 

Maquignaz,  An  ")Ine,  3,  240. 

Martindale,  Mr.  M.,  207,  292.  . 

Millocato,  97-100. 

Milluni  mine,  2y  3. 

Minchin,  Mr.  J.  H.,  330. 

Mirage,  314,  3,^2    335. 

Misti,  54,  56. 

Mollendo,  52. 

Mollendo  rubber,  207. 

Mollendo-Titicaca  Railway,  53- 
62. 

Mountain-sickijf .  5,  46,  47,  61, 
78-82,  113,  :  ',  120,  136,  138, 
140,  186,  i?>'c    229,  233. 

Mountain-syst':;i    of  Bolivia,  67, 

Mud-avalanche,  '>4. 

Mules,  83,  88,  .0  298. 

Mururata,  259    .  io. 

Negroes  of  .  .  :mel,  11;  of  Ja- 
maica, 12. 
Nicaragua  Canajt*  31. 

T 

Obrajes,  92,  2t.  ,311. 
Observatory  at  I\  'equipa,  59. 
Okomisto,  162,  ;25,  256. 
Ollague,  336. 

Oroya  Railway,  the,  44—50. 
Oruro,  292,  323-:J30. 

Pacific  Steam  Navigation  Com- 
pany, 34. 

Pacuani  Pass,  :.58. 

Palca  Valley,  145,  259-266. 

Panama,  30,  31 ;  hats,  39 ;  Isthmus 
of,  18. 

Panama  Bay,  3>. 

Panama  Canal.  1^,  30,  32. 

Pando,  Genera]  J.  M.,  309. 

Pariri,  280. 


402 


INDEX 


Payta,  39.       '     '' 

Pearl  Islands,  34. 

Pelicans  on  thi^<  Pacific,  51. 

Pellissier,  Louis, '^,  194,  283. 

Pefias,  222,  223. 

Penas  Hill,  2^4^281. 

Pizarro,  36,  42.' 

Place  of  Flies,  no,  113. 

Poopo  Lake,  ^4, 1^32.  ' 

Port  Royal,  Jarnai<:a,  il. 

Porufia  volcanj,  337. 

Potatoes,  171. 

Puerto  Balliviaii,"22l,  302. 

Pulacayo  mine.';^3. 

Puna,  the,  67,'' 71,  160,  163,  165, 

171,    222-227; '^255,    274,    284, 

286,  293,  305,.,J54-332. 
Puno,  62.  J 

Resources  of  Bolivia,  unde- 
veloped, 203. 

Revolution  at  Panama,  24—30  in 
Bolivia,  307.  ^   ^ 

Roads,  ancien*.  161,  168,  173, 
195.  'uf.'^r 

Rubber,  see  Indjtlrubber. 

S  A  JAMA,  306,  33»?»  318,  320. 

San  Francisco  L^ke,  177. 

San  Pedro  volcaji^!,  337- 

Sand-dunes,  55.^C  , 

Santa  Ana,  276. 

Sehuenca,  Rio,  yo^. 

Sicasica,  319,  328. 

Sledge  for  bagg  ge,  158,  187. 

Soldiers,  Bolivia  >,  274,  284. 

Sorata,  Mount,  754  ;  Ancohuma 
glacier,  155,  l]i),  185 ;  climb  of, 
184 -191,  229-4239;  Haukafia 
glacier,  179,  1 84 ;  Haukafia 
peak,  179,   i89t,  highest  camp, 


189,  229,  239 ;  Rocktooth  camp, 

185,  229,  239 ;  views  of,  66,  69, 

196,  198,  201,  249. 
Sorata  Town,  198-202,  221,  270. 
Sorocche,  see  Mountain-sickness. 
Stony  Hill,  Jamaica,  13. 
Sucre,  308. 
Surveying  under  difficulties,  240- 

256. 

Taguapalca,  152. 
Thunderstorms  on  the  Puna,  225. 
Tin-mines,  291—299. 
Tipuani    Valley,    195,    210,    219, 

268. 
Tirata,  loi. 
Titicaca  Island,  68, 
Titicaca  Lake,  63-69,  191. 
Triangulation   of  the   Cordillera, 

240-256,  277,  283,  286. 
Tuni,  303. 

Umapusa,   157,   161,   172,   173, 

193,  222,  227,  240. 
Uyuni,  desert  near,  333,  334. 

Vicunas,  300,  314,  331. 

Vilahaque  Hill,  274-277. 
Villanova,  Avelino,  83,  194. 
Vinamarca  Lake,  69,  168. 
Volcanic  region,  336—338. 

Weather  in  Bolivia,   74.    192, 

226,  238,  280,  292,  306. 
West  Indies,  the,  4. 

Yani  gold-mine,  219,  267-273. 
Yareta,  61,  326. 
Yungas,  Las,  258. 

ZONGO,  294,  296,  309. 


THE  END 


^ikJ^i^p 


OF 


THE 


i  UNIVERSITY 

OF 


16  7664 
2 


